


Khagolabbad Fahamu

by SerahSerah



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ancalagon is now small and rather fluffy, Angst, Depression, Dwarven tech-levels are all over the place, Family, Friendship, Gold Sickness, Grief, Minor Character Death, Multi, Not angstier than canon, PTSD-like symptoms, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy and Childbirth, Trauma, blame Tolkien, ridiculous timespan, serious injury to body and mind, some dwarves are cuter than others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 50,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerahSerah/pseuds/SerahSerah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle of Azanulbizar, the dwarves of Durin's line struggle to build a new life in the Blue Mountains, while their king dreams of talking back at least one lost kingdom. When Thráin disappears on another ill conceived quest, who will ever follow an heir of Durin again?</p><p>A story of life and love of those who will later be known as the legendary Company of Thorin Oakenshield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on the hundred years leading up to the beginning of the Hobbit, presented via snippets of the lives of those involved. It expands upon the canon of the book and the appendices in everything except in the odd detail or two that I might have overlooked and the appearances of the characters. This causes some incongruity in Thorin’s age, but I just choose to believe that time plays favourites with the line of Durin.
> 
> Tolkien once wrote that he wanted to create a mythological framework, to be expanded by others. He really only has himself to blame for this.
> 
> Also I'm a novice writer, please be gentle ;)

**21st of March 2841**

It was the evening of the spring equinox and the Blue Mountain colony was abuzz with festive spirit. Almost everything had been dropped in favour of the preparation of food and the decoration of the houses, streets and the great hall. Compared to the celebrations of the last years this was going to be rather lavish. Food and ale where no longer rationed since the last harvest, work had been stopped and shortly everyone would be gathered together to toast the first night of spring.

Thráin strode up the main street, critically eyeing the paper lanterns and painted tin and glass baubles that where being strung across it while Thorin trudged behind him, lost in thought. This was supposed to be a happy occasion for all of them, the winter had been passed without serious hardship for the first time, a sign that the colony was finally able to support all of its citizens with the wealth it created. But still Thráin had been very silent all day, insisting on walking up and down the main street twice, as if he where looking for something, Thorin knew not what.

As they walked the length of the road from the eastern access point up to the hall they passed the marketplace to their right first. The stalls where closed and boarded up for the day and the surrounding buildings with the workshops and guild’s quarters were as deserted as the training field, archery range and the guard barracks behind them. To their left stood the great blast furnace, a tall building of red bricks that still emitted a faint glow and discernible heat, even now with the tap closed, and the forges behind it where quiet for once. Beyond them lay the lower living quarters and cheaper family housings, as well as the worker’s pub, which was also closed. Here the side streets where not quiet, but full of bustle and excitement as dwarves decorated and children ran around and got in the way.

Further up the road they came to the gates and the almost sheer grey cliff that rose high above the huddled settlement until it disappeared into the clouds. A steep path wound it’s way up it from the main road, to and fro across the mountain’s face and to the higher living quarters of the wealthier families who had delved their dwellings into the rock, so that the wall above the gates was dotted with windows and the masonry of the individual houses that showed only their front wall and door to the outside world. The winding path had also been hung with lanterns and long woven banners of the respective families, twirling in the stiff breeze that always blew against the mountain.

As they approached the open gate, the stationed guards stood to attention and then followed behind them as Thráin entered and turned left into the corridor that led to the royal private quarters and to the council chambers with the entrance to the high end of the hall. There Dís already stood with Víli, the smelter journeyman with the remarkable golden hair and her husband. She had dressed grandly for the occasion in her midnight blue brocade dress and her dark hair was braided into many tresses, adorned with silver chains and gemstones, but her eyes where serious when she turned to greet them.

“Father, brother...” she said and curtsied.

At that, Víli also turned and bowed with a grin that faded slightly when he met Thráin’s gaze, who only nodded briefly and moved past them.

“They are mostly seated,” Dís said, “there has been some delay from the miner’s guild, but they should be about done now.”

Thráin turned and motioned for the guards to open the door.

“Good. Thorin, with me. Dís and Víli, you follow.”

The great Hall would have barely deserved such a descriptor in Erebor, but it was still large enough to fit almost all of the colony’s inhabitants. The pillars that supported the domed roof in two long rows where wound about with colourful garlands and hung with many lamps. Between them stood long wooden tables as well a single shorter one on the first of the wide steps that led up to the throne. Since this was a more informal occasion, it would remain empty and the royal family would occupy the lower head table instead. Lín, wife of Fundin, was already seated there with Balin and Dwalin, as where Groín and Amûth with Óin, Glóin and Glóin’s wife Svior. They rose and the hall fell silent as all eyes went to the King. Thráin took the centre seat, Thorin to his right and Dís and her husband to his left. For a long moment, Thráin did not sit down. He just stood, eyes scanning the crowd with a blank expression. This went on for long enough for the crowd to fidget, until Thorin whispered “Father?”, trying hard not to move his lips or be heard beyond the table. This seemed to shake Thráin out of his revery, and he took up his cup and raised it silently, forcing Thorin to provide the requisite call of “To the victory of the sun!”

“To the victory of the sun!” the crowd hollered back and thus the feast began.

Thorin found himself sitting next to Dwalin on his right, who seemed engrossed in an argument with his brother, and Thráin on his left, who now seemed far more interested in inspecting his cast iron fork than his food. Thorin knew what he was thinking. He too remembered the grand banqueting hall of Erebor, with it’s many crystal lamps, marble tables, silver cutlery and gold brocade canopy above the high table. But there was something about Thráin this evening that seemed to go beyond simple remembrance. When Thorin tried to prompt him to eat, he turned slowly and looked at him, but his gaze seemed a thousand leagues away. “It needs gold to breed gold, son. Never forget that” he said and turned back to his plate, although now he at least made a show of eating with more enthusiasm.

Under the table, Dwalin nudged Thorin with his knee and gave him a meaningful look. “You’re not eating yourself, my prince” he said with sympathy. Thorin just gave a small sigh and started tucking in.

As the feast progressed and the ale flowed the hall became increasingly loud and merry, succeeding in infecting most of the royal table as well. Dwalin and Balin had started an impromptu drinking competition with Óin and Gloín and Víli was continuously whispering things into Dís’ ear that where making her blush and try to shove him off playfully ever so often. Thorin did make an effort to join in with the drinking game, but the stony silence to his left never quite managed to leave his mind, and neither did the strange image of being able to breed gold.

 

After the feast was done and everyone was rising to leave, Thorin was rather well into his cups, though he managed to avoid the indignity of swaying. Thráin had left early and after his departure Thorin found it rather easier to play and lose at drinking against Fundin’s sons.

As he made his way down the corridor to his own chambers he nearly ran into Víli, who stood in the middle of the hallway and was kissing Dís with rather more enthusiasm than Thorin wanted to see. He scuffled his boots and coughed. Dís started back at the sound, but Víli only tightened his grip on her and shot Thorin a mock threatening look.

“Do you really need to pass right this moment?”

Thorin glared at him “Yes, I do. You can continue this well enough somewhere where I don’t have to see it.”

Dís looked past her husband’s shoulder sheepishly, and Thorin noticed now that her eyes where red, and he faltered. She had taken their mother’s death harder than he had, and he always had to remind himself that Thráin’s more absent moments always tended to remind her strongly of what they had lost. He stepped closer and laid a careful hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, little sister. But you two do have chambers, you know?” he said and smiled at her. Then he clapped Víli on the back and left for his own rooms.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**22nd of March, 2841**

Thorin felt as if someone had poured molten lead into his head through his eyes. Slowly and carefully he got out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. Washing and dressing again did make him feel somewhat better, though he was sure that this was a hangover for the entire day if he was unlucky.

Just as he had finished fixing his hair and resolved to go and get a bite of breakfast, the great court bells rang, reverberating through the stone passages and making Thorin’s head ring as well. Cursing, he struggled quickly into his boots. There was no open court session scheduled for today, and it was way to early for such surprises. But he still could not miss it, so he hurried out of his door and down the corridor, where he nearly collided with Dís, who clearly had the same idea.

“What is this about, brother? Why did no one tell me about this schedule change?” She looked almost as bleary as he felt and he thought that she had probably been woken up by the bells.

“I don’t know, no one told me either. Come on, we’ll find out.”

She smiled at him uncertainly and fell into pace.

When they passed the doors of the war room, they suddenly flung open, making both of them jump. Out strode Thráin, his face impassive as always, but a fire was burning in his gaze that Thorin had not seen for a long time. He looked angry or exited, and both possibilities chilled Thorin. Thráin walked by him without even a glance. Behind him came Dwalin and Balin and other members of his council and when Dwalin saw him, he faltered slightly, but kept on following Thráin. With quickly building dread, Thorin followed the retinue, his sister at his heels.

When they entered the great hall, the court was already assembled and many citizens where filing in, crowding next to the tables that had not yet been completely cleared. Thráin climbed up to his throne and turned before it to look over his hall and his dwarves. His great, booming voice carried easily through the entire hall.

“For forty years have we now lived in exile. Forty years since the dwarves of Erebor were driven from their home. These lodgings are but a poor substitute and they where always meant to be temporary. I have gathered about me my most trusted guard and retinue, and I will leave for Erebor within the day.”

Thorin felt the world slow and stop around him. Erebor! He had always known his father planned on returning there one day, but now he was going, without a word of warning, and taking others with him, but not Thorin. Thráin continued speaking, though the sound seemed muffled now, half-drowned by the spinning in his head.

“My son and heir, Thorin Oakenshield, will serve as prince regent of the colony, until word reaches you that our home has been retaken and he will lead you then to follow me. Farewell.”

Then he walked down the steps of his throne again and down the centre aisle of the hall. Thorin was still rooted in place as Balin and Dwalin once again fell into step behind their king. This could not be happening. He only barely stopped himself from running after them as a tug on his sleeve from Dís reminded him that all the eyes of the open court where now on him. He was expected to rule the colony, and as such he was now presiding over the open court as his father left out of the gates.

With great difficulty he recalled to mind what would be expected of him, and he in turn got up two of the throne dais steps to address the assembly.

“That will be all, for now. The open court is dismissed. The royal council will convene today after the eleventh.”

This was rather abrupt, but he hoped that no one took any heed, as all present seemed to also be very much shocked by the turn of events.

He was still not allowed to run, but he strode down the aisle as quickly as dignity would allow. As he exited the gates of the mountain he could see his father’s retinue already gathered on the road as laden ponies where brought to them. They were in the process of saying goodbye to their respective families. This had been planned, though he could not say for how long, and with sudden anger he realised that Dwalin must have known about this for some time. As he came up to the gathered party he saw him standing next to his brother, and speaking with their mother in quiet tones. He had started towards him, but then stopped. Dwalin had known about this and not told him.

That was when Dwalin turned and their eyes met. He looked sad for a moment, then seemed to steel himself as he left his family standing and approached his prince.

“Thorin, I am sorry. You must know that Thráin would swear us to secrecy on this.”

Thorin did not answer, but glared. There was nothing to say.

“Thorin, please don’t look at me like that. The king commanded us to follow him, and to be silent. If he had commanded you, would you have disobeyed?”

“You...” Thorin faltered and then tried again, with considerable venom in his voice to stop it from breaking “You are right, of course. Why would you tell me?” He swallowed again and dropped his eyes. He was not going to show any weakness, not out here, in front of his friend who would soon be gone.

“Thorin, you know that I could only breach a silence pledge to first circle family.”

At this, a wild jealously flared up in Thorin’s heart that he had not expected.

“You also know that neither you nor I could stop the king from going. We will see if Erebor can be retaken, and be it here or there, we will be together again.”

With that he embraced Thorin, who stiffened, but could not help but return the hug with all the strength he had.

“I don’t want you to go.” He whispered, fearing his voice would fail him entirely if he didn’t. Dwalin then released him, but kept his hands on his shoulders, looking searchingly into his eyes.

“Wish us well, my friend. Goodbye.”

He turned away from Thorin and mounted his pony. As he moved away Balin came up beside him and put his hand on his arm.

“Goodbye, laddie. Don’t begrudge my brother the adventure. You have already earned a name and many songs. Wish us well.”

Thráin then rode up to them, looked down on him and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear and clearly for his subject’s benefit.

“Farewell, my son. When we meet again, it will be in a home befitting your birthright. Do honour to our line in my absence.”

And with that he turned his mount and rode down the steep mountain road away from the gates and his retinue followed without looking back.

For a long time after they had ridden out of sight, Thorin still stood by the gate and stared after them. Faintly he could feel his throbbing hangover that had receded into the background during the departure. He was the regent of the colony now and needed to prepare for the council meeting he had ordered. He had to gather full reports of all the guilds as well as the treasury, so that he could learn to further coordinate the efforts. It was no longer important what he wanted.

He wanted his father to abandon this insane venture. He wanted his father to go and to take him along, and to take an army as well. He wanted Dwalin not to leave. He wanted Balin and Dwalin to just be there, as they had always been. But now they where gone, and his father too, with barely a word that made any sense.

As he stood like that, staring down an empty road, with dwarves bustling about him and his thoughts bustling aimlessly in his head, he felt Dís come up behind him and take his arm. When he finally looked down at her, she gently signed “ _I’m sorry_ ” and sighed.

“You did not know of this either, sister?”

“No. Why would he have told me and not you?”

“Why would he have told Dwalin and not me?” He retorted angrily, and a little louder than he had meant to. He looked around quickly, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them.

She only shook her head slightly at his outburst.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asked, and she smiled up at him.

“No, I’m starving.”

So with her arm still wrapped around his, together they walked back into the mountain in the direction of the kitchens. At least she was still with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**21st of March, 2841**

Nori loved feasts and festivities of all kinds. Big, loud and drunk crowds delighted him for obvious reasons, but despite what his brother might think he also genuinely enjoyed the atmosphere of camaraderie that the inhabitants of Ered Luin shared. They had come far in a short amount of time, they had carved an existence for themselves out of next to nothing and though it was not what they remembered once having, it was still theirs and it was no small thing to celebrate their accomplishments together.

As the colony was looking up, so was Nori’s chosen trade. Redistributing wealth from those who had nothing was not only distasteful, but very unprofitable. In fact, for most of his years Nori had not been able to get much practice on dwarves at all, only on the occasional unsuspecting Man, for the poverty that Durin’s folk had been in. But now some of the better-off subjects of Thráin actually carried things with them that they did not need for bare survival. Taking those things with as much subtlety and grace as possible was always a fun and rewarding activity.

So Nori wove through the crowd and into the great halll, looking for pockets to pick or even the odd unwatched hair ornament when he was feeling very sure of himself. But even he had to pause a moment when crossing the threshold. Everyone kept insisting on telling him how paltry this was in comparison to Erebor, but he thought it was quite magnificent in its own right. The lanterns and fires where bright, the decorations where joyful and the lower tables where already being laden with a wider assortment of food and ale than he had seen in a long time.

At the head table the royal family were just taking their seats and the king was still standing. When he raised his cup in toast and his son gave the call, Nori joined in the answer “To the victory of the sun!” with as much enthusiasm as any.

Instead of seating himself immediately though, he slid round the side and walked along the walls for a bit. He soon spotted his brother and mother, sitting as far up the long table as their status allowed. Dori seemed engrossed in a conversation with some fellow weaver while Asutri was sitting as still as always, staring into the distance and pretending to listen to the bustle around her. The more Dori was able to support the family by himself the more she seemed to drift off into the distance, leaving her sons to fend for themselves. Nori felt perfectly capable of looking out for himself and Dori was certainly in a position to do so as a newly appointed journeyman of the weaver’s guild, but Nori also knew that Asutri’s condition weighed on his brother’s mind and he could not help but resent her for ignoring the still very much alive members of her family.

This rare bout of sympathy for his brother did not make Nori want to hear about the relative merits of one pattern over another for the rest of the evening though, so he took care not to be seen and sidled to the back end of the tables, taking his seat with the miners.

He found himself sitting next to a young lad who was already busily digging into his food. He seemed to be about Nori’s age, but had already grown a quite respectable moustache and his brown hair was bound in the simple apprentice braid of the coal miner’s guild. He seemed to feel Nori’s gaze and as he turned to him his questioning look quickly bloomed into a brilliant smile that seemed to shine brighter than the paper lanterns that hung overhead.

“Why, I don’t think I’ve seen you before! You’re not a miner, you are craftless, aren’t you? What is you’re name? I’m Bofur, son of Eikín!”

He finally paused for breath, wiped his greasy hand on his trousers and extended it for Nori to clasp, still grinning. Nori took the proffered hand and signed “nice to meet you” against it.

“I’m Nori”

He had never gotten away with that introduction before, but he decided to try anyway. Bofur however did not seem to mind, only briefly raising his eyebrows in confusion. As Nori filled his cup he found he did not want to look away from the cheerful boy who had once again turned his full attention to the food.

The ale flowed and several of the other young miners started a rather spirited re-enactment of a dramatic fight against a troll they claimed to have encountered in the coal mine. Nori laughed along with them, and every so often he caught Bofur looking over at him.

The feast ended slowly, and Bofur seemed well and truly drunk, swaying a little where he sat and bumping into Nori repeatedly, who rose before the others, but not before leaning close to Bofur and whispering “I’ll see you again, merry lad.” With a wink, he slipped away from the table and back into the dispersing crowd.

A final look around the hall told him that Dori and Asutri had already left. Now that he stood he noticed the ale going to his head as well, so he decided to call it a night. He made his way out of the hall and up the path that led to the upper quarters, keeping to the shadows for no better reason then practice. As he came in sight of their small house he saw a hooded and cloaked figure standing in front of their door, swaying as if drunk and rocking back and forth on his feet as if nervous. Nori slipped behind one of the marking stones of the road and drew his dagger. Festivities or no, it was very much too late to be paying visits anymore and he could not make out the strangers face. If he tried to break the door, Nori would be on him in an instant. But for a long time, the figure did not move forward until at last he reached for something under his cloak, swayed back and forth a few more times and then bent down and placed it on the doorstep. Then he straightened, seemed to take a deep breath and walked briskly back down the path towards Nori’s hiding place, who shrunk back even further. As he passed, Nori caught a glimpse of his face and was surprised to see that it was a young boy of his own age who had not yet grown any beard to speak of. His dirt-brown hair was shorn into a warrior’s crest and his unusually sharp nose and eyebrows cast hard shadows on his face. Even in the darkness, Nori knew he would recognise him, so he saw no need to stop him. When he had found out what the boy had left, he could always find him again.

When the stranger had passed, Nori carefully slipped out of the shadows again and approached his front door. When he saw what lay there he let out a short laugh of relief. It was a love token! Clumsily woven out of tin and bronze wire and set with lesser gems, it measured about two hands across. It was obviously the work of someone with little experience and little wealth to spare, but still Nori could not find it in himself to mock the lad. Suitors of far higher standing than a warrior’s apprentice and far more experience than that stripling had tried to court his beautiful mother and ultimately failed. She did not take suitors anymore, not since the rebellious and ill-advised episode with Nori’s father. This boy did not seem to realise the hopelessness of the situation. With a sigh, Nori stepped over the token and slipped through the door. Asutri would find it in the morning, ignore it in her usual way and that would be that.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**23rd of March, 2841**

The next morning turned out to be painfully bright. Nori woke to to the sounds of his brother rummaging around in the parlour below and he closed his eyes again. If he got up now, he would probably get a lecture about his hangover, slight though it may be, but if he didn’t, whatever Dori was making for breakfast would disappear before he could get to it.

His mind made up, he finally peeled himself out of bed, cursing quietly at the light coming through the open window. It was a warm and cheerful morning however and even he could not really be too grousy on a day like this. He had breakfast waiting, a suitor to scare a bit and a brown haired miner lad of his own to find. Whistling to himself tunelessly he came down the steps to find his brother spreading the table.

“Good morning!” He greeted with a cheer he knew was irritating, “Good of you to make breakfast for me!”

”I did not make breakfast for you, Nori, I made breakfast for us” Dori replied curtly, “though we are glad that you could see your way to joining us so early in the morning.”

“Hmph, still too early for sarcasm, Dori. Is mother up yet?”

He moved to help Dori carry breakfast out of the kitchen. They had white bread and cheese as well as honey and some leftover preserves from winter. This was good fare for them, so apparently Dori’s business was looking up even more than he had hoped.

As soon as the table was set, Asutri came down the stairs and greeted her sons each with a kiss to the cheek, but without meeting their eyes.

“Good morning, my boys. How good of you to make breakfast!” she said, sat down and said no more for the rest of the meal. But still she seemed to be a little livelier than usual and was apparently listening to Dori talk about some commission or another.

When breakfast was done, Dori stood up to get the dishes, and Nori turned to her.

“Ah, mother, before I forget. Someone has left you something on the doorstep. It may still be there, if no one decided that wasted effort is fair game for anyone.”

Asutri rose with a quiet sigh and walked to the door, opened it and bent down to pick up the token.

“I saw the lad who put it there,” Nori called over, “some stripling warrior.” But before he had finished, Asutri came back inside, bearing the token with her.

Well, that was a surprise.

“Do you mean to accept it? I’ll go and find out more about the lad if you do.”

“There is no need, my boy. This was left for me by Hár, son of Vár, apprentice of the warriors guild.”

At that, Nori’s jaw dropped, as did Dori’s, if the clatter of a wooden cup hitting the floor was any indication. Before Nori could think of something to say, Dori shot out of the kitchen again.

“What? A warrior’s apprentice? How old is the boy?” he asked, his voice rising.

Asutri only gave him a level stare. “I did not know I owed explanations about every suitor who left tokens at my door, Dori. I will thank you to remember your place in this” and with that, she strode back up the stairs and slammed her chamber door behind her.

An uncomfortable silence stretched in the parlour until Dori continued to pick up the dishes. As soon as he had disappeared into the kitchen Nori took his chance and fled the house. This was more than a little absurd, but Nori doubted anything would come of it. So in the warm light of early morning he made his way toward the market. Maybe he could pick up a little something for a certain miner’s apprentice and forget about his strange family for the day.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**January 2842**

By the end of the day Thorin was still sitting in the council chamber. Sunlight no longer came through the light chutes and someone had brought in two bright glass lamps that now stood among the small mountains of paper that lay strewn across the massive stone table. Thorin sat at the head of it, his face in his hands. The whole day he had been reading and hearing reports about material requests, subsidies and disputes about trade between guilds and his head had start to hurt hours ago.

He was now the regent of the colony, and though he tried to get the guilds to care for their own affairs as much as he could, the persistent shortage of so many different things continued to make their work difficult. The smelters required coal, the smiths required iron and the miners required tools. Neither seemed to quite see that this was not a question of who was at fault, but very much one of a chicken and an egg. Most blame fell on the miners because they failed to deliver the agreed upon amount of coal and ore, but Thorin was reasonably sure that this was mainly the fault of the mountain they sat in, but regent and heir apparent of Thráin or not, many of the guild masters where quite reticent to really listen to a ruler who had not yet seen his first centenary. Not that they would ever admit it to his face, but a certain air of dismissal always hung over the proceedings. And as if that was not enough, the farmsteads had requested that more seed be bought and the merchants had managed to involve themselves in a quite serious trade dispute with Hobbits over the price of barley or something of the kind.

Ruling no longer meant being a leader in war. Now it just meant settling disputes and coordinating resources. While that was as boring as watching grass grow, it was also indispensable for the survival of the colony.

In the past, when Thráin had delegated these tasks to him for learning purposes, not only did he know that it would end sooner or later, he also just dropped it at the end at the day and went to find Dwalin. Then they would visit the training courts together and spar with their weapons of choice until their entire bodies ached and all stuffy thoughts where driven from Thorin’s mind.

But Dwalin had been gone almost a year now without a word and Thorin tried not to think about him anymore. There was no telling what had happened to the quest and no point in speculating. Thorin had spent many a night awake going through all the possibilities in his mind before he made himself stop. No matter if he liked his new duties or not, he needed to be alert for them. He would not earn the respect of the masters if he was asleep on his feet, or kept drifting off into thoughts that where fruitless.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the door creaked open and Dís carefully peered around the door. As she saw that he was alone she shouldered it open, bearing a tray with food and tea.

“You have been sitting in here all day, brother. Did you forget to eat again?”

Thorin sighed and nodded. “The coal shortage is becoming serious. I will need to speak with the miners, if nothing can be done I need to stop the furnace and forges very soon.”

Dís came around the table and pushed a stack of paper out of the way with the tray. “I brought you tea, soup and bread. Not eating will not help the forges.”

Then she drew up a chair and Thorin started to eat.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**July 2842**

Nori stood next to the entrance to the corridor that lead to the mines, leaning against the wall and waiting for the day shift to end. More and more often, when his home became uncomfortable and fraught with lectures by both his mother and brother, Nori found his thoughts drawn ever stronger to a certain cheerful young miner. He had been working very hard lately though and Nori seldom got to see him for more than a few moments, so he never had the chance to really get to know him as well as he would like, and not nearly enough to know what he may think of him. But the short times they did spend together, Bofur was always kind to him. Also he had never once asked after his father or craft, which was something special in and of itself. Whenever Nori had tried to get closer to anyone in the past, it invariably turned out that the person was as traditionally minded as most and thus had to insist on some kind of proper courting process to even consider a tumble, a process Nori could not engage in without the recognition and stability that came with a crafting position.

Wherever he turned in life, it seemed that he could not get away from that wretched expectation. Just like his brother told him every time he got the chance, Nori was way overdue for getting an apprenticeship somewhere or another. He was perfectly capable of caring for himself without that. He had not gone hungry since the colony had started looking up, there was no one he had to obey and his life could hardly be considered illegal if he did not get caught now, could it?

As he stood and waited for the miners to emerge, he watched a small crowd gather around the entrance, made up of the family members of the crew and Nori amused himself with guessing who would belong to whom. Two dwarves in particular were shooting him sideway glances ever so often, by which he surmised that they must belong to Bofur in some way. One was the portly young cook’s apprentice with the bright red hair and the other was a dwarf he had not seen before. He had black, bristling hair and a full beard and looked at him with obvious disapproval. Nori wondered what Bofur had told them about him and what they thought he wanted. He liked Bofur a great deal, but by the looks he was getting one could think he had somehow compromised his friend’s honour already.

The older dwarf’s looks where intensifying and Nori was just debating leaving the hall before he got in trouble, when a loud and ominous rumbling sound echoed up from the deep below them, making everyone jump. With a shout, those closest to the entrance started running down the corridor towards the mines themselves and Nori followed as quickly as he could, filled with dread. That was the third tunnel collapse in the last year. So far no one had been hurt, but the sound alone was always enough to unnerve anyone.

As the group finally arrived at the lowering pulleys of the mines themselves, one of the foremen was just climbing up over the brink.

“The first shaft has caved in. I need someone to go and rouse the night shift to help and another to report to the prince regent.”

Next to Nori several dwarves took off at once and Nori found himself standing unwatched, peering down along the light chains into the deep. There was something about the drop that always called to him in a disquieting way, as if the deep itself wanted him to jump, or to push someone else in. Shuddering, he turned away again. Bofur went down into that presence nearly every day; Nori would have to ask him about that when he came up.

To distract himself, he turned to the foreman, who was watching him with suspicion.

“Is there something I can do to help? One of my friends is down there.”

“No, boy. If you want to help, leave before you get into the way.”

Nori huffed and walked slowly up the corridor again.

After several hours of interminable waiting, at last the call went up that the cave in had been cleared and that the miners where unhurt. Nori was still lingering in the hall and waiting for them to come up. Worry had been eating at him far more than he had expected and his relief when Bofur finally came up the corridor was an even bigger surprise. He was dirty and looked very tired, but at least he was in one piece. When Nori started towards him, he saw that he was flanked on both sides by his family, and the older sent him a ferociously glare, stopping him in his tracks. As Bofur caught sight of him though, he grinned through his exhaustion and moved toward him, laughing at the dark expressions on his family’s faces as they followed him.

“Hello there, Nori! Here, don’t worry about these two, let me introduce you. This scowling one here is my cousin Bifur, he won’t hurt you, much, and this is my brother Bombur.”

“At your service”, Nori bowed slightly, stoutly ignoring being glared at and turned to Bofur. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Before Nori could recognise what had happened he found himself engulfed in a hug. He could hear Bifur cursing and Bombur grumbling, but most of all he felt the strength of a miner’s arms around him and a great warmth radiating through him. When Bofur pulled away again, he suddenly felt surprisingly cold and bereft.

“I’m quite alright, thank you. Just the mountain coming down on us again, nothing to worry about.”

Then Bifur and Bombur grabbed Bofur by the arms and pulled him away.

“Come on laddie” Bifur said, “Let’s get you cleaned up” and led him away, with a last meaningful stare at Nori.

He watched the three of them go, and just as he was about to turn away, Bofur wrapped his right arm around his brother and signed behind his back: “ _second up and third right from the back_ ” then he hugged Bombur closer to him and laughed at something he had said, while Nori stood behind, grinning widely.


	7. Chapter 7

**July 2842**

Leaving the hall, Nori made for home again with a spring in his step. Bofur had actually told him where he lived and that alone was a sign of a wish for more intimate friendship. Normally, this information would come with a formalised first invitation, but Bofur did not actually seem to want to play by the rules, which made it all the more sweet.

Upon entering, he found Dori sitting by the fire, staring into it absently, a cup of tea by his side. He looked up and then did a double take.

“Where have you been? And why on earth are you covered in coal dust?”

“A mine shaft collapsed, I tried to help”  
Dori sprang up from his chair, nearly tipping it and rushed over, gripping Nori by the arms and looking him over.

“Are you alright? What one earth made you visit the mines?” He tried to wipe off Nori’s face with his sleeve until Nori shoved him off.

“No, I wasn’t hurt, nobody was, and I did not actually touch anything. I was just watching the miners come out and got hugged in the process.”

At that Dori seemed to relax a bit, and stepped away.

“Since when are you interested in the mines? That is hardly an appropriate calling for you!”

“I’m not going to become a miner, Dori. But it’s good to know that there are professions I am not allowed to consider.”

Dori just huffed and turned away. “This is a discussion for another time. You said you knew about that warrior boy, Hàr, or what his name was. What do you know about him?”

“Why, what has he done?” Nori asked with some alarm.

“Nothing, yet” Dori answered, “he and mother went for a walk an hour ago and she has not returned yet.” Nori instantly relaxed. He had been worried there for a bit.

“And you think he, what? Threw her down the mountain side?”

“That is not funny! He is courting her, and we do not know anything about him at all! Who knows what he might be up to?”

All right, Nori did not actually find that to be funny.

“Well, we do know that no stripling like him will easily get the better of her in a fight, anyway. But no, I don’t know anything about him, I just saw him put down the token the other day. He can’t be much older than me.”

“Oh, what are they thinking?” Dori groaned and sat down again, his head in his hands. “Nori, you need to do something!”

“What do you want me to do? Throw _him_ off the mountain? Mother would hardly thank us for interfering. And she is old enough to…”

“To be his grandmother, exactly! Nori, this can not happen, not again!”

With a sigh, Nori sat down next to his brother, who was now pulling at his braids in agitation. “Dori. Mother has been alone for all my life now, and she grows more distant and cold every day. She is also the most beautiful dwarrowdam of the age. Does this really surprise you? She can do what she wants.”

“Yes! Yes, she can do what she wants!” Dori was nearly shouting, “And everyone else can say what they want, behind her back or to her face. Don’t think I don’t know what they say about my family!”

Nori looked at his brother in surprise. Dori always pretended to not hear and not care, and Nori did not know that it was getting to him this much.

“They are just opinions, brother. What does it matter?”

“What it matters!?” Dori was really shouting now, “I know you don’t care, you have never cared, just as your father never cared! There is such a thing as propriety, Nori! Though I’m hardly surprised you don’t know about that.”

Nori stood up stiffly. For all his frequent berating, his brother had rarely alluded to his heritage quite this viciously. He waited to see if there was maybe an apology of some kind forthcoming, but Dori just ignored him now, so he strode back to the door. So much for a quiet evening in.

Leaving his house he wandered aimlessly along the high street of the upper living quarters. He supposed he would have to try and get to know Hár, if he wanted to or not. He was almost certainly no threat, he had seen his mother throw dwarves twice his age and weight into the dust for insulting her, but if this was getting serious they should at least know what was happening, and he doubted very much that Dori would be able to diplomatically extract that information. But that would have to wait for now. If Dori made it a point to attack his lack of propriety, by mention of his father no less, maybe it was time to actually do something to prove him right.


	8. Chapter 8

**July 2841**

His mind made up, Nori made his way down the high street towards the lower living quarters. He had been there a few times, not least because the Pulley&Torch pub was there, but now he was looking for a specific home. The worker’s lodgings where in a long, flat brick building, and Nori crept around the back of it, taking great care to not be seen. This was half the fun of it, anyway. Quickly he found the third second story window, because it was the only one where the shutters where open and warm light filtered out.

Taking care to make as little noise as he could, Nori scaled the wall under that window, using the cracks and seams of the bricks as precarious handholds. Then he got a grip on the illuminated windowsill and drew himself up and looked into the chamber. It was tiny and cramped and contained nothing but a bed, a small chest, a cast-iron heating oven and a small table under the window with two stools. It also contained Bofur, who looked up and grinned when he saw Nori.

“Well, good evening, visitor! Do come in, and clean off your boots!” he whispered.

Nori climbed through the window and found himself enveloped in a hug again. Then Bofur released him and gestured to the bed, where they both sat down.

“We will need to be quiet, my brother and cousin are in the chambers to the left and across from mine. I’m afraid they don’t really like you yet.” Bofur’s smile faded a little. “And I don’t know why.”

“I do,” Nori said “I’m almost of age, with no crafting braids. Also I’m the son of Asutri.”

“Oh! Oh, but that means you are of the house of Durin! You are practically royalty!”

This made Nori chuckle in surprise, that reaction was certainly a first.

“Well, no. Just my mother is of that line, you see. And she is not considered a good example of our extended family. She does not behave as people expect of her, and I don’t know if you have noticed, but no one really likes that. You know what they say about her.”

Bofur just raised an eyebrow.

“Well I like you, don’t I? You can’t tell me that you play by the rules, when you come climbing into my room at night.” Then he frowned slightly. “But I don’t know what they say about her. Hereabouts, we try not to engage in gossip about Durins. We have enough of our own to go around.”

Nori laughed at that. “Oh, I doubt your family can ever match mine’s shenanigans.”

Bofur grinned too. “Well, maybe not, I don’t know. Maybe I should climb into your home sometime, prove you wrong. But, of course, I would have to scale the mountain side for that. Can’t say I fancy my chances up there.”

“But you climb into the mines every day! At least on the mountain, the roof won’t be coming down on you any time soon.”

“We don’t climb down into the mines, we let ourselves down by the pulleys. You don’t really know how mining is done, do you?”

“No, I don’t know how much of anything is done.” Nori said, suddenly serious, and turned away. He hated this line of conversation. It was usually the part where people decided that he was not worth it anymore. But instead he suddenly found himself with an arm around his shoulders and a soft voice very close to his ear.

“It does not matter. You don’t like doing as you should, that’s obvious. And who am I to say if that is right or not.”

Nori huffed. “Well, everyone else seems to have very clear opinions on the matter. Barely a day goes by when my brother does not remind me of what I should or should not do.”

“Well, that is what they are for, family, are they not? They look out for us, that’s how how it goes.”

Nori did not really want to talk anymore. The arm around him was very heavy and strong, and Bofur gave off a lot of warmth that seeped through both of their clothing and into his bones. If he had his way, he could stay in that embrace forever, and never want for anything. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not his brother’s nagging or his mother’s wayward courting of young boys. He found himself wondering if maybe here, in this poorly chamber, was the place where good things could last, even for him.

 

But of course, as soon as that thought came to him, they heard a door down the hallway open, and heavy footsteps come toward them. Bofur sat up suddenly, and whispered “That’s Bifur coming. If he finds you here, we’ll both be in trouble, quick!”

Alarmed, Nori jumped up and looked around. In his own room, he would be able to hide in a few places, but here there was no where to go. Even the bed was to low to hide beneath. He would have to go. Before he could think about it to much, or let good sense stop him, he turned back to Bofur and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back!” He grinned and made for the window. The last thing he saw before he swung himself over the windowsill was Bofur standing as if frozen, a look of shock and joy on his face.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**July 2841**

“We were lucky, my lord, the cave-in was not as serious as we thought at first and no one was injured. But the shaft is still unstable and will need extensive reinforcements before we can use it again.”

“If we do not get more coal, we will not have enough to fuel the blast furnace. If we need to shut it off, without proper notice, we might as well tear it down completely, if it does not do that for us! The bricks were not made to withstand going cold this quickly. Repairing the damage will take months, if we can do it at all. This will back up the production considerably, production the miners rely on, if they don’t want to reinforce the shaft with nothing but wood and their bare hands!”

“Then what do you suggest we do? Wish upon the second mineshaft to stop rotting, or the first to stop collapsing? Maybe you could come down some time and hold it up for us! Or blow your hot air down it and hope it disperses the rot gas!”

Thorin groaned passionately, positive that no one would even hear him over the ensuing shouting match. He was sitting at the head of the council chamber, the table before him covered in the mineshaft schematics and the calculations for the time and coal needs of the furnace. As it was, it had coal reserves for a week, and making the shafts of the coal mine safe would take two. And to make matters worse, the guild masters of the miners and the smelters where completely insufferable. Thorin saw their points well, they were certainly making them loudly enough, but he did not like them better for it. So reluctantly he rose. “Enough!” He thundered with all the force he could muster. He was surprised when both of them actually fell quiet and sat back down. Now they could try to find a solution.

“Smelter, how much time can you gain by slowing the furnace, without going into the shutoff process?”

The master seemed to want to protest, but Thorin levelled a glare at him that he had been practising in the mirror and it seemed to work, for now.

“Two days, my lord. Any more and it will not be safe.”

“Very well, then. Two days. Smith, can you stop the forges until the shortage has passed?”

“We are currently crafting the fixtures for the miner’s support structures, my lord. We are running at full capacity for this task. We can stop, but then so do the mine repairs.”

Of course they were. For three guilds that where this interdependent, Thorin really wished they could be on better terms, at least.

“Very well. Miner, I’m afraid that is all we have. I know you have been working very hard, but if we do not accelerate this process, the chain will break and it is not easily fixed.”

“I am well aware of that, my lord. It has been pointed out to me.” The miner shot a venomous side glance at the smelter. “But we are already pulling twelve hour shifts, and I cannot increase that without endangering the miners to fatigue and the resulting mistakes. “

“Yes, I see.” Thorin said, “So what are our options? Could we cut a second vertical shaft down from the ore mine, to reach a point beyond the instability? Or could you use the help of unlearnt workers?”

“We do not know how far the instability goes, that is the problem. The mountain is treacherous. Cutting another shaft could just drop is into the hole and trap us there.” The miner scratched his beard. “But unlearnt workers could help, to a degree. They would have to be taught the basic safety, movement and construction procedures, which would take two days at least, but if we find maybe two dozen more hands, I believe it could be done.”

“Very well, they will be found. But smelter, slow the furnace as much as you can. Just in case.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And when this is done, I want the forges to stop, until the furnace has gathered enough reserve coal to outlast any other emergency like this.”

“Yes, my lord.” the smith echoed.

Thorin lent back in his seat and looked over the guild masters again. “Was that all that needed to be discussed?”

They nodded.

“Then you are dismissed. I will send helpers to the mine for the next shift. If you need additional assistance, let me know.”

The masters all rose, bowed to him, and left. When they where gone, Thorin let out a deep breath. That had gone quite well. The problem they had tackled was indeed rather critical, but he still could not help but remember that when Thráin had sat where he was now, not one of the masters had ever raised their voice in his presence, even over matters more divisive than this. Of course they made a show of respect to him now, but they where all more than a century his senior and he knew that they regarded him as little more than a boy watching the house while his father was out.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**May 2844**

It was once again a day of open court and Thorin sat on the wooden chair one step below the throne, listening to the public reports of the guild masters. But just as the merchant stepped forward, there was a commotion at the hall’s entrance when the gate was drawn open and a group of twenty dwarves trouped into the hall. They where heavily armed, clad for travel, dirty and weary from what looked like an eternity on the road. Thorin rose as they came closer and then felt his breath fail him as he saw that it was in fact Balin and Dwalin leading the company, and that Thráin was not with them. They came to a stop before the first step of the dais and bowed, but only Balin looked up at him, while all the others kept their eyes on the ground.

“Hail, Thorin, son of Thráin, prince regent of the Blue Mountains!” Balin intoned, loud enough for the benefit of the entire court. “We return from the quest for Erebor with grave news.Your father, the king, is lost to us.”

At this, a cry of great dismay went up, and Thorin found himself unable to even formulate a response. The hall fell silent again and all eyes where on him now, except those of Dwalin, who was still staring at his boots. Thorin knew that much was expected of him now, and he needed to react in some way. But once again, he found himself alone without warning and he did not know what to do. So he just turned back to his chair and sat down with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Report.” He commanded, at least glad that his voice had not yet failed him.

Balin stepped up and continued. “As soon as we crossed into the wilds we were pursued and assailed almost every step of the way. We do not know how it was possible, but our enemies made a coordinated pursuit. We fought our way through Eriador, across the misty mountain and over the great river, when we came under the eaves of the Greenwood. There a foul black rain began to fall, as if made of blood and ash, and it drove us under the trees for cover. We made our camp and as we rose the next day, Thráin had gone without even footprints for a trace. We searched for him throughout the forest for weeks, until we knew that he could not have come further than we did, for he took no supplies. At last we despaired of our search and made our way back to you at last, though we saw neither hide nor hair of our enemies in our return.”

Thorin became aware that he had been sitting slumped during the report and consciously drew himself up again. All the eyes of the crowd where fixed on him with what he finally realised was dread. He still remembered clearly how he had watched Thráin get the news of his own father’s death and then swear revenge on his murderer, who’s head had finally been bought with the lives of half his army as well as that of his youngest son. If Thorin was now to declare war on the Greenwood, who would follow him? What kind of an army would he have to march behind him and to waste on revenge?

The great hall seemed to fade from his vision and once again he stood amidst the shouting and screaming in the valley of Azanulbizar after the battle, walking over the bodies of the dead and the dying, slipping on the blood on the ground, blood that was pouring out of a caved in skull and through matted golden braids…

He could feel a hand grip his shoulder and did not know who it was, or where, and his vision started to swim as he noticed that he was not breathing. For a second, he was under water and at the same time he stood in the midst of a great fire roaring about him, before the hand tightened painfully and with a start and a deep gasp of breath, he was back in the great hall, his sister standing by his side, almost grinding his bones together with the strength of her grip.

He was still sitting on his chair and everything was deathly quiet. He looked up to her and saw tears on her cheeks, and the same dread in her eyes, waiting for him to condemn them all. So he closed his eyes for a second and drawing a deep breath, forcing himself to feel the living rock beneath his feet, he managed to rise from his chair without stumbling, and raised his voice to address the assembly.

“People of the Blue Mountains! Our king, my father, has fallen in the attempt to regain our old homeland of Erebor. His quest was betrayed, but we do not have a name to put to his enemy. We will not get revenge on cursed trees and enchanted rain, even if we felled the entire greenwood in our anger. But we will mourn his passing as we may, and the ceremonies will be conducted within the month.”

A great sigh of relief went over the crowd, and Dís released his shoulder with a final squeeze. Thorin continued, now addressing the travelling party.

“You have come far, bearing great sorrow. Go now and rest. The royal council is summoned to convene at the second sixth, and we will plan the necessary arrangements. The open court is now dismissed.”

Then he turned and strode out of the hall without looking back, his sister on his heels.


	11. Chapter 11

**May 2844**

As soon as the doors of the hall fell shut behind him, Thorin stumbled and sagged against the wall. Dís came up behind him and took his arm, to and try and pull him further, but he did not want to move anymore. The smooth stone wall was cold against his face and it seemed to soothe the fire that was running through him. His eyes where dry but burning and he could still see the flames lick around the edges of his vision. It took him a while to notice that Dís was talking to him.

“Thorin, come on, let’s not stay here. Come with me, please.”  
He could hear that she was crying and that shook him even more. His sister should not be crying. So with great difficulty he pried himself away from the wall again and let himself be led down the corridor and all the way to his chambers. As soon as his bedroom door closed behind him, he drew her into his arms and she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing softly. He tangled his right hand in her thick black hair and concentrated on the feeling of her solid body against his. As he had been taught all those years ago, he let his mind anchor itself to her presence, imagining them to become one and root themselves in the stone, solid and cool. As long as he could feel the living stone beneath him and around him, he could know what was real and what was not. There was no fire here and no blood. Just rock and memories that could no longer hurt him, or her.

For a long moment they clung to one another, until at last he released her and drew away. Her eyes where red and wet, but calm again and she cupped his face in her hands.

“Thorin, you can do this, we both know it. And you always have us. You have Balin and Dwalin back now as well. And you know what? You can do it better than he could.”

“How? And what makes you think I could? I have to take his crown now, but not his ring. And I can’t rule them if they won’t follow me, and how could they follow me like they followed him?”

He had seen it in their eyes, that doubt. He was the heir of Durin now, but what hope did he have? That name had spelt nothing but disaster for so long now.

“Father was mad, Thorin! You know it, we have always known it!” Dís said, and then turned away, taking deep breaths to regain herself and continued more quietly, “You want to know what I think? What everyone else thinks too? That it is a wonder that he did not get his retinue killed as well. That it was only a matter of time before he disappeared into the wilderness in his search for gold.”

Then she fell silent again and sat down heavily on Thorin’s bed, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the room, still concentrating on the feeling of stone beneath him.

“But you, Thorin, you are not him. You do not believe in breeding gold like so many chickens. We do not live off gold, we live off livestock and grain and pig iron here and we have a life. We know that you will not waste that on revenge or riches and we will follow you.”

Thorin trudged across the chamber to fall down beside her and leaned against the bedpost. After a huff of mild exasperation, she shuffled over to him, lifted up his arm and curled up against his side, as she had not done for a long time, not since she had been a girl. But he still tightened his arm around her and drew her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m not sure I’m not mad. I’m not sure that you are right in your confidence in me. I can still see the battle sometimes, Dís…”

She sat up straighter and held his gaze with hers.

“Thorin, you are not to call yourself mad for a wound sustained in war. Many have received far more grievous injury to mind and body from what you have seen.”

Thorin shivered. He knew that well. He knew he was lucky to even be alive and himself, when so many where not.

“But what have our people come to, Dìs? Thrór ruled the mightiest kingdom in middle earth, and I? Livestock and grain, you say, and pig iron. Things we used to trade for, and now we grow and smelt it ourselves and yet we can barely sustain this decimated colony.”

“But we do sustain ourselves. What we have here we made ourselves, and the more time passes, the more sustainable we become. When we have that, other things will follow. Even Thrór just returned to a kingdom already more than half built in Erebor. But you, you will lead us to greatness from nothing, not the other way around. We must honour our fathers as is their due, but we are not obliged to forget what their madness cost us in the process.”

Thorin just closed his eyes and hugged her tight again. He would be king, and he would learn what he needed to know. He was not alone, he reminded himself. He had his sister, more solid beside him than the mountain itself, and Balin was back, with his wisdom beyond his years, and Dwalin was back too. Always the line of Durin returned to rebuild after calamity upon calamity.

His eyes started burning again, and his breath constricted. He turned back to Dís and hid his face in her hair, so that they could both pretend that he was not crying.


	12. Chapter 12

 

As the hall bells rang, Thorin and Dís finally made their way to the council chambers. Thorin took his place at the head of the table, reminded sharply of the fact that this was now his place for good. The others were already standing behind their chairs and as he took his seat, they bowed and seated themselves as well. Dís sat to his right, as his closest kin, with Víli beside her. Around the table sat Gróin with his sons Óin and Glóin, and Lín with her sons Dwalin and Balin. Also present were the smith master Mûtr, representing the crafting guilds, and the old scribe Dól for the record keeping. Dól rose and shuffled his feet and a stack of paper for a while. At last he spoke up, in his usual monotone that had put a young Thorin to sleep more than once in his lessons.

“We account King Thráin, son of Thrór, son of Dáin, lost to us. Without a body, we cannot conduct the full burial ceremonies and we will record him as missing. But the account of his loss makes us despair of his return. Thus the inheritance of his crown and kingdom fall to his son and heir, Thorin II, called Oakenshield. Any present may contest the record, if they have reason.”

Everyone sat in silence for a while and Dól waited. Then he shuffled about some more and said:

“So be it then. The record has not been contested and will be set down as history.”

With that he sat down again and Gróin spoke up.

“This has been a grievous day and a long one. We can not bury our king, but we will still hold a memorial in his honour. We must set a date and begin the preparations. The same goes for Thorin’s coronation. Also we will need to make a new crown, as Thráin’s is lost with him.”

At that, Mûtr coughed quietly and spoke. 

“We do not have the material to craft an appropriate crown. We would need to melt down one of the remaining mithril weapons for this.”

“No,” Thorin said, ”I will not have any armour or weapon destroyed for my crown. Our defence situation is precarious enough as it is, and worsening it, however slightly, would send the wrong message to my people. Not to mention that the mere thought of it is obscene. Those weapons are the representation of the best craftsmanship the dwarves have ever developed.”

“Agreed, my lord,” Mûtr said, clearly relieved. “But we do not have enough gold for a crown either, without destroying artifacts that are as important to the people as their weapons.” 

Thorin shared a brief look with Dís and made a decision. This might not go over well, but he liked the idea.

“It has recently been pointed out to me that this colony does not live off of gold or mithril. Make my crown out of wrought iron, and etch it with designs of our history. That will be the crown of the Blue Mountain colony.”

Around him, several jaws dropped in shocked silence. Thorin looked to Dís again, who alone did not seem surprised and was smiling at him.

“But, my lord…” Mûtr stuttered at last, “that is completely unprecedented!” 

He stopped again, his mouth opening and closing in a rather comical way. 

“So are we,” Thorin answered. “We are a people in exile. We came from greatness and wealth, but now we are barely above fighting for our very survival. I am not king under the mountain and I am not lord of the Dwarrowdelf. I am an exiled king with a shorn beard, and my crown will reflect that.”

He looked across the room again and thought that he had at least made a good impression. Gróin was nodding to himself and Balin was smiling now. Dwalin was still looking at the table.

“Now that that is decided, we will need to set the dates. How long will the preparations take?” Thorin asked.

“We will need a few weeks for the songs” Dól said.

“And a week for the crown” Mûtr added.

Thorin rose. “Good. We will hold the memorial for my father in a month to the day then and the coronation will be on the day after that. Make the preparations and notify my people. That will be all for today.” 

One after another everyone filed out of the council chamber, until only Thorin and Dwalin remained. They both sat on opposite ends of the table, looking down at their hands and for a long time the silence stretched between them like a living thing. Finally, Dwalin coughed and got up as if too leave, but instead walked across the room and stood next to Thorin.

“I have been away so long, my friend. Will you not at least greet me?”

Thorin felt his throat close up again, but even at the risk of a few tears, he could not really deny Dwalin this, so he got up as well and found himself enveloped in a crushing hug. Some part of him may have forgotten how strong Dwalin was, how his arms could shut out the world and how his coarse beard felt against Thorin’s cheek. It had been so long, but with all his willpower Thorin kept himself in check and drew away again to look at his friend. He had acquired a vicious cut across his face that was still partially healing and he had lost almost half of one ear. He looked older too, his beard had grown and his crest was now long enough to be bound into a travelling braid, but all those things did not stop Thorin from feeling like it had been only the day before that he had seen him last.

“I am glad you came back, Dwalin. I was not sure you would.”

“Why would I not come back? Did you think I was going to found my own kingdom somewhere in the wild?” Dwalin’s eyes widened immediately as he said that and he lowered his head.

“I’m sorry, my friend.” Thorin did not think he misheard the slight waver in Dwalin’s voice. “I am so sorry.” He leaned heavily against the table, his head still bowed. “We searched and searched. But the woods where so dark, he had been away for so long and I can’t even tell you we were really surprised.”

“I know, Dwalin. I don’t blame you, any of you. But he was my father, and I wish… well, all wishing is in vain now. I am so very glad to have you back, you must know that. It seems that I am king now. I will need your help with that, as I have always needed you for everything else. My people don’t trust me, they watch me like hounds for any sign of weakness or dishonour and I am the last of my line. This colony threatens to collapse at the slightest provocation, Dwalin.”

Just saying his friend’s name seemed to help a little. Dwalin straightened up again and put his hand on Thorin’s shoulder, who let himself lean into his friend’s grip just a little, just for old times sake, he thought. Dwalin’s hand seemed so heavy and so achingly close, as if it was holding on to his heart. For a long time they stood like this and until they where once again forced to face the outside world, Thorin let all his mind and heart cling to that point of connection.


	13. Chapter 13

The Kings coronation was an unexpectedly solemn affair. Nori had assumed that it would come with a celebration of some kind, seeing as the new king was supposed to be happy about the occasion, but perhaps because of the circumstances of Thráin's demise and his memorial ceremony only the day before, the whole ceremony still had an air of mourning about it. 

Nori tried to sidle in between the miners to get next to Bofur, but received a look of such menace from his cousin that he immediately thought better of that. He then slunk back to his own family, where Dori also shot him a glance not exactly brimming with approval, but their mother smiled at him, Hár standing by her side. He was not yet in a position to take her hand in public, but he stood closely enough to signal intent and now it was Nori’s turn to frown. Family, he thought, this is probably really what they are for. But his mother had smiled at him and had done so ever more often in the past, so unlike Dori, Nori could not find it in his heart to dislike the lad. Making his mother smile was something he had often tried and miserably failed at.

Before anyone could feel the need to make conversation, the gates swung open and the royal guard marched in in rank and file, surrounding the as yet uncrowned king. This was the first time Nori got a good look at Thorin II Oakenshield, his black hair unbound and his beard shorn close, clad in fishmail armour under a wide sleeveless tunic of midnight blue that was bound with a broad steel belt and he a long cloak that trailed behind him over the floor. He bore no weapons, but he had the shield fashioned out of the oak branch at his side, as he always did. He probably went to bed with the thing. He was a tall dwarf, and broad for his age, with the likeness of the furnace tap at night shining in his eyes. And yet he looked so very young, Nori thought, less than a century old, and the shortness of his beard made him look almost boyish, like a young lad in his father’s armour and footsteps. But he was their king now and they would all be forced to find out what that meant for them.

The guard spread out in formation over the lowest step as Thorin ascended to the throne. There already stood Gróin, who held the newly fashioned wrought iron crown in his hands. Nori knew there had been much debate, speculation and gossip about that, but he thought it was actually very fitting for the people Thorin would now rule, even if he guessed that it would be heavy enough to give anyone a headache.

Thorin turned about and Gróin bowed, handing him the crown. Thorin lifted it up, presenting it, and set it on his head. There he stood, their king, and Gróin called out:

“Hail Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, king of the Blue Mountains and heir of Durin!”

And Nori shouted “Hail!” along with the rest of the crowd.

After that, the guild masters and the family elders all came before the throne one after the other to renew their allegiance to the line of Durin and swear their service to the new king. This was the boring part of the whole ceremony and Nori tried to shuffle quietly backwards into the crowd when something caught his sleeve. Looking up, he was caught by Dori’s glare, who just shook his head quietly. Nori huffed, and stayed where he was. No one ever had an easy time catching him when he wanted to be unseen and the fact that his brother had done so did merit the respect of staying by his side a while longer. At least until the vice grip on his sleeve relaxed somewhat.


	14. Chapter 14

 

By the time he had received all the pledges, Thorin really began to feel the weight of his crown and he thought less and less favourably of his choice. It had seemed like a better idea when he had not yet considered the practicalities of it. Thrain’s crown had not been heavy and he had worn it nearly all the time, apparently even at the time of his disappearance, but Thorin hoped he might get away with wearing his less. 

At last the ceremony came to an end, the crowd started leaving and Thorin stood, watching the last of them go until he could finally leave himself. As soon as he had left the hall, he took his crown off with a sigh and looked up to find Dwalin and Balin walking beside him. 

“Heavy, is it?” Balin asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, very, just you try it!” Thorin said and thrust the crown at him.

Balin grinned and clasped his hands behind his back, refusing.

“No lad, not a chance. That thing is well and truly yours.”

They continued walking and Thorin turned the crown about in his hands.

“It would hardly do to give it away now,” Dwalin laughed from the other side, “And you do look fetching in it!” He winked.

“Honestly, Dwalin?” Balin groaned in mock anguish and Dwalin laughed even louder. “now that all the serious business in done with, what say you we see how much ale the kitchen will let the king have before they dare to tell him that he has had enough?” He bumped into Thorin’s side.

“I’ll go see to that!” Gróin called from behind them and went for the kitchens as Thorin made for the sitting room, followed by his family. He was glad of the decision against a public feast, as that meant he could get well and truly drunk in private.

Very soon Thorin remembered why leaving the drinking decisions to Dwalin could be a bad idea, simply because he tended to set the pace and then expected everyone to keep up. And while Thorin found that it did not take that much ale for him to make getting up quickly unwise, it would take a whole lot more to drive the thoughts from his head. His family seemed to be rather more successful in drowning their more maudlin thoughts. Soon they had gone for their instruments and Dwalin was performing a very vigorous jig. Thorin himself sat in silence, his harp forgotten as he watched. It never ceased to amaze him how skilled Dwalin’s thick fingers where at the fiddle, and how carefree he still managed to look when playing.

After a while he looked about again and found Balin watching him from across the table with reddened cheeks and slightly unfocused eyes.

“You look far too sober, lad. And too worried. I wonder if those things might be connected.”

“Not a problem you seem to be having right now. But there is enough to worry about, don’t you think?”

Balin sighed. “Maybe right now. But maybe in time answers will present themselves.”

“When has time ever presented answers, Balin? All it has done so far is make matters worse and worse.”

“But these times are yours now. You did not take the crown gladly, we all know, but it does afford you both the burden and the gift of being the one to make decisions.”

“And no one is happy about it. My people do not trust me, I know it.”

“They do trust you, Thorin. You are the heir of Durin and a hero of war. They have just learnt that those things might not be what they once were.”

Thorin laid both his hands flat down on his harp to keep himself from fidgeting. 

“And if I seem weak, or my rule unsure… If they do not follow me, they will fail. And I will not let that happen.”

Balin was looking at him with sad eyes.

“I know you will not, lad, I know.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**August, 2859**

The children of Thráin, Gróin and Fundin had gathered for breakfast this morning, as they often did these days. It was a pleasant and quiet meeting, a chance to exchange news and stories before they all went to their respective work for the day and Thorin had always cherished these moments. This day however, Dìs and Víli where missing. They had both been rather distant for the last few weeks, but just as Thorin wanted to go and see if something was wrong with them, the dining room doors opened and they entered, arm in arm. Dís was looking rather pale and wobbly, but Víli was grinning so broadly that his joy seemed to envelope them both like a light. Everyone looked up at the princess and her husband, but they did not sit down and Víli beamed over the room, taking a deep breath.

“My lords, my friends, we have an announcement.”

He made a dramatic pause before Dís elbowed him in the ribs and continued for him.

“What he means to say is that I am expecting his firstborn child.”

Everyone in attendance immediately leapt to their feet, cheering wildly and rushing at the couple to hug them. Thorin stood somewhat more slowly, staring at his sister who was trying to fend off Óin and Glóin, who were both trying to pick her up and spin her. A child! Few children had been born in the colony so far, and now his sister was expecting. For the first time in so painfully long, his family was receiving happy news. His sister was going to be a mother, he would be an uncle, they would have a little one of their very own. The sudden surge of joy and love that overcame him overwhelmed him completely and he felt his eyes grow wet. This seemed unreal to him, but so unlike the unreality he knew from his waking nightmares that he did not know what to do. He did not want to wake.

His kin had now relinquished their grip on her and he approached slowly, taking note of how pale she looked, but also how her eyes outshone even Víli’s smile. He wrapped her in his arms, as close as he could and closed his eyes to prevent his tears from spilling. “Sister…” he choked, his voice breaking, “Mahal’s blessing, sister…”. He stood like that for a long time, hearing the joyful cheering of his family as if from a great distance.

 

It was decided that Dís would be tended by the master of healing in addition to the midwife and the entire family received instructions in caring for her in the time of her bearing. Soon she could hardly leave her chambers without having at least one of her close kin hover about her, help her carry things and shove food at her at the slightest excuse. It irritated her to no end, but they endured being snapped at and kept doing it regardless, even if sometimes they where forced to do so from some distance for their own safety.

As the months passed and her belly started to swell, Thorin found that his great joy was increasingly undermined by fear. The circumstances for this birth where actually very good, the healers and the midwife had all the necessary supplies and had assured him time and time again that their examinations of her condition had uncovered no reason for alarm. Everything was developing as it should and she was very strong, they said. Still every childbirth was significantly dangerous, and it started to weigh on him. One evening, on a day where she had been sick more than usual, he sat next to her during supper, fidgeting with his food and not eating, and she gave him a look of intense exasperation.

“Really Thorin, if you can make me eat more than twice my share, you can at least eat some of your own as well.” Thorin just grumbled, but he did try.

“You know, this is what it’s like, Thorin. Maybe it’s a good thing that you get to know.”

“It’s like what, Dís?” He asked distractedly.

“Watching the male folk go to war. I imagine you are feeling somewhat like how I have felt, so many times in the past.”

He looked at her in surprise, he had never even thought about it that way. He still did not know if it was comparable. When he went to war, he lived and died by his own skill and risked nothing but himself, but she… He had never been in a fight this important. Then she groaned again, and he was on his knees at her side in an instant.

“What is is it? What can I do?”

“Nothing, Thorin, the little one is just kicking.” She groaned again and then looked down at him fondly. “Would you like to feel it?” she asked.

He nodded dumbly and she took his hand and placed it on her swollen belly. It felt very hard and taught, and it had to be uncomfortable, but he could also feel a distinct tremor go through it and something bumped into his hand.

“Thorin, meet the little one, little one, meet your uncle Thorin.” She whispered, and he could her the pain and a smile in her voice in equal measure.

 

And then one morning, Thorin went into the eating hall to find it empty and knew instantly what that meant, and he threw all sense of propriety and dignity to the wind and ran. He dashed through the great hall and burst through the door of the infirmary, coming to a skidding stop in the waiting chamber which held every member of his extended family, as well as Víli, who was sitting on a bench with his head between his knees and having obvious trouble breathing. Thorin sat down next to him and put his hand on his shoulder when suddenly a piercing scream made them all jump and Víli started shaking. Thorin shuffled up closer to him and stroked his back while he tried to close his ears to his sisters screams. He knew that this was normal for birthing and did not have to mean trouble, but nothing could have prepared him for hearing his little sister in this much pain. Ever since they where small he could not even bear it when she cried and this sound tore through him worse than many injuries he had endured himself. So to distract himself and to stop himself from slipping again, he concentrated on comforting Víli and watching the others, as they all stood around, fiddling and biting their nails, projecting the feeling of intense uselessness.

At long last silence fell and after a long, interminable moment, they heard a baby wailing. Víli sprang up and rushed to the door, swaying slightly with apparent dizziness. The door opened and the midwife came out with a bundle in her arms, which she handed to Víli, who took it as if the slightest pressure might break it.

“Mother and son are well,” she said.

Víli then turned to the waiting crowd. There were tears in his eyes and his voice wavered, but he was smiling again.

“I have the honour to introduce you all to my son, Fíli of the line of Durin.”

 

***

 

Thorin was tired and found this to be intensely unreasonable. Dwarves were renowned for their endurance in battle, travel and work, but not apparently in the raising of babes. Fíli son of Víli seemed to be determined to keep both his parents and his uncle on their feet in a steady rotation and seemed to know exactly when adults fell asleep, taking that as his cue to start wailing again. At last, the exhausted parents had accepted Thorin’s offer of help and tonight was his night to get up and see what the little one wanted.

So he stood now, at an hour he was pretty sure even Mahal was asleep, walking up and down the chamber with his bundled up and crying nephew. He had been fed and his wrappings had been changed, but he did not want to sleep now, so Thorin walked up and down the room with him, singing softly and letting his mind wander. All dwarves loved their children fiercely, Thorin knew, but he was still surprised at the depth of affection he felt for the little helpless bundle with his shock of blond hair. He did not remember Frerin as a babe, but he did imagine that he must have looked much like this.

At last Fíli fell asleep, and Thorin laid him into his crib very carefully. Thankfully, he did not wake again, but by now the sun had almost risen and it was pointless to try and sleep again, so Thorin relocated to the sitting room and hung the kettle above the fire for some tea. As soon as the water boiled, Dís emerged from their sleeping quarters, looking better rested than she had for some while.

“Thank you, Thorin, for taking him tonight. I don’t think I could have gone another night without sleep.”

He smiled and poured her a cup of tea as well and handed it to her.

“I’m glad to. He will be my heir, it’s only right that I help raise him.”

She looked up from her cup in surprise.

“Truly? Thorin, you yet have time to sire your own sons and you have decided to name mine?”

“I have. If I sire children of my own, which I think I likely will not, I would still have your son be my successor. He will be the older either way. Also it solves the matter of the records.”

“The records? What of them?”

“You are a daughter of Durin’s line and you have your own songs, but still the records will omit you. If your son becomes king, they will have no choice but to include you, and know him as the son of Dís, daughter of Thráin.”

“It is a great gift you give me, brother. Also I think you feel quite clever for thinking of it?”

“I do indeed, sister.”

They both turned back to smile into their tea, Dís softly and Thorin decidedly smug.


	16. Chapter 16

July 2860

 

It was very early in the morning and the sun had not risen yet when Bofur was startled from sleep by the sound of many voices cursing and the running of many feet in the corridor. Not even fully awake yet, he stumbled out of bed as the great hall bells began ringing up a storm and a great cry went up in the streets.

“To arms, to arms!”

Bofur had never woken up so fast. In a sudden panic he struggled into his clothes and ran out of his room, only to collide with Bombur, who was looking bleary and afraid. 

“Where is Bifur?” He asked, looking about frantically.

“I don’t know” Bofur answered and tore open his cousins door, but his room was empty. Without even looking back he took off at a run, nearly tripping down the stairs to their communal sitting room with Bombur hot on his heels. After a moment of uncertainty he sprang over to the rack for repaired tools and grabbed two mattocks, tossing one to Bombur. 

“Stay behind me, brother. Do not leave my side, whatever happens!” 

And with that, he sprang out onto the streets.

The side road to the worker’s lodgings was already deserted and they made their way towards the main road, just in time to see the Gate swing open to reveal their king in his armour, a sword in one hand and the oaken shield in the other, his hair flying as he ran, his guard retinue in close pursuit, followed by the royal family with shining weapons and flashing eyes. Bofur stopped and stared for a second and then turned to look down the road and his breath left him. From the high point of the gate he had the full view of the valley below that seemed to be teeming with a black mass, speckled with many torches. From all the houses and side streets around him dwarves where emerging, some with weapons and many just with the tools that had been at hand. The defence was frantic and disorganised, but everyone immediately fell into step with the king as he sped down the main road to cover the retreat of the females and children into the safety of the halls in the mountain.

As they ran, Bofur caught sight of his cousin in the crowd, but calling his name would be pointless over the cry that now went up as the enemy rushed up to meet them and the battle was joined.

Their attackers turned out to be a tribe of Goblins from the far north of the Blue Mountains. They where small and poorly armed, but many and vicious. Bofur spun his mattock and attacked with the others. He had never imagined such chaos and panic. He had been told, of course, in his training, but no telling came even close. He could barely see beyond his own weapon as he spun and tried to defend himself from all sides. He had promised himself to look out for his brother and to find his cousin in the fray, but very soon he could not even think of them anymore.

But then, after he had killed his fourth Goblin maybe or his fifth, time seemed to slow. Suddenly, he found that he had time to think again and he could see the battle rage about him, even as he blocked a stab from the side and embedded his mattock in the Orc’s chest. The second clear thing he became aware of was the dwarf fighting along side him falling as his throat was ripped out with a hooked blade, but even the wide spray of blood seemed slow now. Then he looked further and saw the king and his guard build a wall of bodies to either side as they advanced. He saw the smelter’s master wield the tap spade like a spear that glowed red in the low light and burned the enemy as they ran at him, shrieking like things possessed. He saw the masons wield hammers, standing in a tight circle, but most others had lost all formation and where trying to fight their way towards the king in an effort to regain it. Some where still yelling the battle cry and many where screaming. 

At last he caught sight of his brother, who was fighting a few yards away and still seemed to be blinded by battle, though he was doing surprisingly well for it. Just as he started to move in his direction, he spotted Bifur on lower ground. He was fighting with his boar spear when a Goblin sprang at him from behind, latching onto his back. He spun and tried to shake it off, but as he twisted the creature got a grip of his hair and yanked his head back. Time stopped around Bofur entirely and only the Goblin seemed to be moving as it raised its small axe and brought it down into Bifur’s skull. 

All noise disappeared from the air, and to the end of his days Bofur swore that he could hear the sound of metal cleaving through bone. He also heard Bombur still enveloped in the fight beside him, but he could not make any noise as his cousin dropped straight to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Without thought Bofur fought towards where he lay, paying no heed to the enemies he cut down on the way. He battered and smashed his way across the road until he stood over his fallen cousin’s body, but the Goblin that had felled him was already gone. For a while he stood there, swinging his weapon at the empty air before he noticed that there where no more enemies around him and that the king had rallied his subjects and advanced beyond them.

Bofur dropped to his knees beside his cousin. His hair lay around him like a dark fan and blood was steadily flowing from his wound where the axe still stuck, deeply buried in the contorted and broken bone of his forehead. Very carefully, as if not to disturb him, Bofur lent down and laid his head on his cousin’s chest, distantly aware of Bombur sobbing next to him and feeling the tears run down his own cheeks as if they belonged to someone else.


	17. Chapter 17

 

As the din of the battle stopped and the call of victory went up, Bofur still lay on the ground next to his fallen kin and it seemed to him that the time that had slowed in battle had never taken up its proper pace again. Vaguely he wondered if this was the way the warriors felt all the time. His eyes where open, but maybe he was dreaming. That would explain so much, he thought, it would explain why he could not see and why he could hear a slow drum beating and why Bifur was dead.

This thought stayed with him for a long while, until another came to him, quiet and weak, from deep underground, that he was not dreaming, that he was in fact lying on a battlefield and that something was not right. He should not be lying here like this, he should get up and see if his brother was hurt, or if he could help with the wounded. Why was he not getting up? And what was that sound?

After another small eternity his hearing seemed to return to him, or at least what he heard seemed to be more real now. Bombur was crying beside him, but there was still the muffled drum under his ear and with a rush it came back to him. His head was lying on his cousin’s chest and the drum was a heartbeat.

With a start he sat up, all the muscles in his back aching from the strain, and he met Bombur’s eyes. “Heartbeat” he whispered and Bombur’s eyes widened. 

“Bofur… you…” Bombur sobbed, but when Bofur did not release his eyes, at last he lent down himself with his ear to Bifur’s chest. “Heartbeat…” he echoed and then leapt to his feat. “Healer!” he bellowed, and at once one was by their side, looking at them, not at the body on the ground, until Bombur stuttered, gesticulating.

“Not us, him, he has a heartbeat!” 

The healer was beside Bifur in an instant and pressed two fingers to his throat, his eyes widening in surprise. Then he fumbled out a swath of cloth out of his satchel and packed it around the axe in Bifur’s head. 

Soon others arrived and he was laden onto a stretcher and Bofur and Bombur were left to trail behind as they carried him up the main road toward the infirmary. Bombur took a hold of his arm and tugged him close as they walked.

“Brother, are you alright?” 

It took Bofur a while to register the question, but time still seemed so strange and he did not want to answer too quickly.

“Yes, I’m alright. Are you?” At last, he turned to take a close look at his brother, who seemed to come into sharper focus now that the battle was further behind them. Bombur was covered in mud and blood and his hair seemed matted and dirtied beyond repair, but he moved steadily and even supported Bofur slightly as they walked. He nodded. 

“Yes, I think so. Nothing hurts, as far as I can tell…”

“Okay. If something starts hurting, you tell me!”

Bofur startled slightly. That was the first time his little brother had directed a command at him.

“I’ll do my best, I promise.”

As they walked further towards the gate, more and more of the world returned to focus and it seemed as if time came back into sync slowly. The healers where carrying many bodies up the road and many others where limping up it by themselves and dragging their kin with them. The casualties seemed severe and it would be a long night for the healers, but they day was not lost. They had repelled the heaviest assault the colony had seen so far and even as Bofur searched his heart, he found a numb, unfocused grief, but no despair. Bifur might live. 


	18. Chapter 18

As it turned out, the healers would not let them inside the infirmary yet, kin or no. The entire hall was filled with dwarves with the same reason as them and no one was being admitted. Grudgingly, Bofur and Bombur did see the sense in that and thus decided to get cleaned up first. Bofur’s ears where ringing and he felt like he could sleep for years now. 

As they trudged out of the hall again they heard their names being called and they turned to see Therûr rushing towards them. Her hair was tousled out of her tresses and her eyes where very red. She stopped before them.

“My boys, oh my boys…” She cried and they both surged forward to hug her.

“We are both unhurt, mother,” Bombur mumbled into her hair, “we are alright. But Bifur is wounded.”

She only hugged them tighter. “I thought as much, he is not with you. Is it bad?

“I’m sorry mother,” Bofur said, “I’m afraid its rather serious.” He took a deep breath while he wondered how to approach this. “He took an axe to the head. He lives, but barely.” She gasped and her knees seemed to buckle and they both held her up.

“But it’s not hopeless!” Bombur said, “we will have to wait, I’m afraid.” 

After only a brief while she regained herself and drew herself up again, wiping her eyes.

“Well, then we will wait. If there is one thing I know… Anyway, the two of you look a fright. Come with me.” And with that she grasped both of their sleeves and led them away towards their home. For a dwarrowdam who had given birth to a miner and a cook, she had always shown an unusual fixation on cleanliness, and Bofur could not help a slight smile. There was a unique comfort in things that did not change. 

 

***

 

The next days were the longest Bofur could ever remember. After the initial chaos after the battle, families where slowly being admitted to the infirmary one by one to visit their kin and take those home who where fit enough. Bifur lay on his sickbed as still and pale as death, his head swaddled in white bandages and a healer came often to check his heartbeat, breathing and temperature, as well as to administer fluids through a tube they had inserted into his throat. To remove the axe would certainly kill him, they said, so it remained in place. They sawed off the handle and cleaned it as best they could, but for a long time Bombur seemed unable to look at their cousin, so Bofur covered it in bandages as well and no one gave comment.

Work had not yet resumed, but Bofur knew that he would have to return to the mines very soon, as their continued operation, at least for coal, was considered too essential to be granted the prolonged mourning period the other crafters where entitled to. And Bifur was not dead, so they where not technically even mourning, but after the long watches at his bed Bofur found it increasingly hard to keep a hold on his hope. He showed no sign of waking, and as the healer had explained to them very carefully, they could not know what to expect if he did wake.

“Injuries like this are unusual and unpredictable. We have very little experience with them, for victims rarely survive. But your kinsman has lived with such a wound for days now, where most would have been dead where they fell. His spirit is very strong to keep to his body in these circumstances, though we can not know what state it is in. Do not give up hope.”

She had not said anything about infection, for they knew it was a certainty at this point. They had a stack of Kingsfoil and where treating the wound with it every day, but soon the fever would likely start anyway and how he dealt with that would determine his chances. 

For as long as the healers would allow they sat by him, singing to him and telling him the tales he had loved before and they took turns at sleeping and eating. No one knew how to persuade a spirit to stay in a body when it might not want to. Minds damaged by their bodies where known, but always so different that experience counted for little. Bofur just hoped Mahal had made his spirit as strong as his body and for one not to fail the other.


	19. Chapter 19

As bad as the battle had been, and as much as Nori never wanted to see such wanton destruction and chaos again, he privately thought that the aftermath was actually worse. Seeing his mother completely overwhelmed in the care of the many wounded, Nori had surprised himself almost more than it had surprised Dori when he had offered to help. Without even the most basic knowledge in the craft of healing he would not normally be allowed to, but the sheer amount of grievously wounded meant there was ample work for him, even if it meant carrying water and supplies and washing bandages for the most part.

Previously he would have balked at such a lowly and frankly disgusting task, but there was something about the wounded that drove the thought completely from his mind. He never had any interest in the craft of the warrior either, but when the tribe of goblins had come crawling up the mountain something hard had woken in him and he had seen the same in the others. An attack on the colony meant an attack on the families. They had fought well, and won, and paid the price. And so Nori did not complain with a word, even when he was elbow deep in bloody water.

It took him a while to recognise Bifur. He had seen the dwarf with the axe wound of course, and heard a lot of talk about him as well. Most of the healers present had never seen anything like it and there was a consensus of great admiration for his strength of mind and body to still be alive, but at first Nori did not get to see much of him because only one healer and his family where even allowed near him to reduce the risk of infection. When he was finally deemed stable enough to no longer be sectioned off, Nori recognised Bofur’s brother sitting beside the bed, and then he recognised Bifur as well. He still stood at a distance, unsure of what to say, when Bombur looked up at him with tired eyes.

“Are you looking for my brother?” 

To Nori’s surprise, there was no unfriendliness in his voice, only resignation and exhaustion, and Nori moved closer carefully.

“No. Well, not at first. I did not know you where here, or that his kinsman was wounded. I… I’m sorry.”

Bombur just nodded at him and turned back to the bed. 

“He will be here in an hour, after his shift ends.”

“He has to work? Even now?” Nori asked.

“Well, of course. Work goes on and it will not wait for us. Also we do need to eat, if we want to or not.” Bombur sighed. Nori moved even closer. 

“May I sit with you?” He asked. “I know you don’t like me, but you are Bofur’s kin, and I know you mean everything to him, and I… I find myself wanting to help.”

“You say that like it surprises you. But yes, you may sit with us. Maybe Bifur will wake, just to throw something at you.” But he was smiling when he said it.

“And I don’t dislike you,” he continued, “as I don’t know you. But you are craftless, and we are unsure of your intentions towards my brother. Bifur does not trust you. Or at least, he did not…” He was not smiling anymore.

Nori sat down on the stool opposite Bombur.

“I do hope he wakes, whether he likes me or not. And I want you to know that I mean no harm to Bofur. I just like him and I feel drawn to him, but my intentions are a lot more honourable than most would likely think.” He winked, and Bombur chuckled weakly.

“He likes you too, you know. He talks a lot about you, when no one stops him. I don’t see anything wrong with being your friend, as long as you don’t get him into trouble.” Bombur suddenly fixed him with a steady look. “Do not get him into trouble.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Then they both fell silent for a while, until Bombur began to sing, very softly, but with a deep, resonant timbre. It was the story of Durin’s waking, and Nori knew it well, but he sat listening, moved by the beautiful voice and the words that seemed very fitting to the circumstances. 

After a while, the curtain beside the bed was turned aside and Bofur entered. He was freshly bathed, but looked even more tired than his brother.

“Nori, hello! This is a surprise. Nice to see you on being-in-the-same-room terms with my family!” He smiled his usual smile, though it did not reach his eyes. Then he rounded the bed and embraced Bombur, who stood up to greet him.

“No great change today, though his temperature has gone up slightly. The fever will start soon, I’m afraid.”

“All right, I will watch for that. Go get something to eat now. I hear there is some stew in the kitchens if you are quick.”

And with a final nod to Nori, Bombur left, and Bofur sat down.

“Have you eaten yet?” Nori asked after a while. 

Bofur just shook his head, still watching his cousin. He seemed to be very far away in his thoughts, though that may only be the tiredness. Nori rose quickly.

“All right, wait here. I won’t be a moment.”

Bofur barely reacted and Nori left the infirmary. He had not eaten himself, and his stomach was growling. After a moment of deliberation he decided that it would take to long to go home or to the market, so he ducked behind the nearest pillar and deftly tied his hair in the manner of a messenger boy and headed for the worker’s kitchens. Upon entering, he looked about quickly for someone who might know him, and then approached the give-out with a carefully studied air of someone who owned the place. 

“Two bowls of stew!” He called across the counter. The cook gave him a curious look but complied, handing him two steaming bowls that Nori took back to the infirmary with him. As he entered, Bofur was staring at a spot above Bifur’s bed and took a long moment before he looked up. Then he seemed to come back to himself with a start and looked at the bowls and then at Nori’s hair. He had forgotten to take the hair tie out. But Bofur laughed, and this time it seemed a lot more real.

“Oh, you did not!” He grinned, and took the bowl Nori handed to him. They ate for a while in silence, before Bofur spoke up again, some mirth still in his voice.

“You are to old to be a messenger, Nori. I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“It has worked well enough so far, but I may need a new approach soon.” Nori grinned around his spoon. There was something about being able to make Bofur smile that made him feel extraordinarily clever, even with such a simple trick. But he still had something he wanted to mention, and was unsure how to start.

“Say, Bofur, I have to ask…”

He got no further, because at that moment Bifur’s eyes flew open. Bofur dropped his bowl and sprang to his feet as Bifur started to jerk violently in his bed, his eyes staring ahead, clearly unseeing.

“Healer!” Bofur yelled and tried to get a hold of his cousin, while Nori stood by, shocked and helpless. The healer came running and shoved Nori out of the way without a glance before she quickly pried Bifur’s mouth open and shoved a rolled up wad of cloth between his teeth.

“Now let him go.” She said to Bofur, who drew away. 

Nori quickly rounded the bed to Bofur’s side and wrapped his arms around him. He was shaking.

After a long while, Bifur’s convulsions subsided and his eyes slid shut again. The healer checked his pulse again, took the cloth from his mouth and then turned to them.

“His fever has gone up considerably. We will have to start treating it soon. Nori, while you are playing the messenger boy, go to storage and get me two small towels and two big ones. Then fetch a pail of water.” 

Nori gave Bofur a parting squeeze and rushed off.


	20. Chapter 20

Over the next few days, Bifur’s fever worsened considerably, as did his seizures. The healers wrapped his legs and arms in towels soaked in water and vinegar, packed his wound with kingsfoil and told them all to wait. Nori stayed with Bofur as often as he got the chance, and sometimes with Bombur too, until the fever finally broke.

Nori was sitting with Bofur again, this time on the same side of the bed, as they heard Bifur utter a low groan and saw his eyelids flutter. Nori stayed back as Bofur lent over the bed.

“Bifur, Bifur can you hear me? It’s me, Bofur, will you wake up?”

After a moment, Bifur’s eyes actually opened, but seemed unable to focus, fluttering around the room until they landed on Bofur. He frowned in concentration and then closed his eyes again. Nori stood and put his hand on Bofur’s shoulder, whispering: “I’ll get the healer.” He left the alcove in search of the healer on duty and found her mashing herbs in the infirmary kitchen. 

“I think Bifur may be waking up.” 

She looked up in surprise, but followed him without a word. As they arrived back at Bifur’s bed, his eyes where open again, though they had an eerie, vacant look in them and Nori’s heart sank. This did not look good.

“Well, good to see you awake, master Bifur” The healer said and lent over him. “Let’s just have a look at you.” 

She pressed her palm to his cheek, peering into his eyes and then took his pulse with two fingers. “Help me get him up,” she said to Bofur and Nori and they lifted an unresisting Bifur up by his arms as she stuffed more cushions behind his back. After a bit of maneuvering, he was finally sitting up and looked a little more alert, though his eyes still did not quite seem to focus one what he was looking at. The healer sat down on one of the stools and addressed him calmly.

“Bifur, you are in the infirmary of the Blue Mountain Hall. You have been asleep for several days. But your cousin Bofur is here and the others will be sent for shortly. It will take a while for you to fully wake up. So I want you to relax and take it slowly.”

Then Bofur turned to Nori. 

“Mother and Bombur will be home now. Could you fetch them?”

Nori nodded and took off. He arrived at the worker’s house to see light filter out of it’s many windows and wondered where he would find them. Maybe he would just have to ask around. He shoved the front door open carefully and found himself in a large entry room that seemed to double as the communal sitting room. There where four tables with low benches, the walls where lined with racks for the tools of many trades, and in one wall there was a large fireplace with wool and fur rugs before it, as well as many chairs and stools. On two of the chairs sat Bombur with a dwarrowdam Nori had only seen a few times in passing. She was short and slight and looked quite young to have two grown sons, her rusty brown hair not yet touched by any grey. Her features where almost delicate and gentle, but still showed a quiet steel under the tiredness in her eyes. Both mother and son were staring into the blazing fire in silence. As Nori approached, Bombur saw him and stood.

“Hullo, Nori. May I introduce you, this is my mother, Therûr, Mother, this is Nori, who Bofur talks about.” Slowly, she rose as well and fixed Nori with a hard stare that made Bifur’s previous ones look friendly.

“Yes, I heard. Playing the messenger then, are you? Well, what is it?”

Nori decided to dispense with the formalities and just blurted out:

“Bifur is awake!”

Without a second glance at him, Therûr swept past him. Bombur shot him an apologetic look and followed her out of the house. 

Nori stayed behind, shaking his head. His presence would hardly be welcome in the infirmary right now and it was getting late, so he would make his way home. 


	21. Chapter 21

January 2861

 

Bifur’s healing was slow and painful. Often, he did not seem like he had awoken, though his eyes where open, staring blankly at nothing. His words also often failed him and he sat for long moments in silence, frowning deeply before he could reply to a question. Over time, this got better, but he found his signs sooner than his words and from then on he always preferred them, as if he regarded them as more trustworthy. Strangely enough he seemed to have forgotten Nori, but none of his family had apparently told him of his previous disapproval. Therûr however could not be warmed to him, so he still avoided her as much as he could. He dearly wished to convince her some time, but for now the family was entirely occupied with caring for their injured kinsman and even Nori could not find it in himself to be selfish at such a time.

So life returned back to usual for him, interspersed with clandestine meetings with Bofur, but mostly he just went about his business, as he called it. One evening, after a particularly fruitless episode he returned home late and was surprised to find that his house was still full of light. He entered to find his family sitting by the fireplace, despite the late hour, and they all rose when he entered. Bracing for a combined lecture, Nori noticed very late that in fact Hár was standing next to his mother, who spoke first.

“Good of you to come home at last. We where waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry mother, I was delayed. Had I known we were having a meeting…”

“No matter. I have an announcement.”

But instead of speaking, she took Hár’s hand in hers and held it. Nori looked a while at their joined hands in confusion, until it dawned on him at last.

“You are getting married!?” He exclaimed.

“Well, not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but one Dori made me expect. Yes, we are to be married.”

Nori did not count himself easily surprised, nor indeed easily caught off guard, but this certainly qualified. He stopped himself just in time from uttering several of the most burning questions that where running through his mind and instead just stuttered:

“Con… congratulations! And welcome, Hár, son of Vár.” Then he looked to Dori, who remained entirely expressionless and unhelpful.

“Well, this certainly is a surprise. Will we celebrate the occasion?” He moved quickly into the kitchen for the ale, followed by Dori. As soon as they where out of sight, a quick and frantic signed discussion took place.

“ _What in Mahal’s name? When did you find out?_ ” Nori began.

“ _Not an hour earlier, I assure you!_ ”

“ _Have you spoken to him? Threatened him in your usual, effective way?_ ”

“ _Of course I have, what do you think! I told him to get lost, he told me he’d tell mother._ ”

“ _What, like a child?_ ”

“ _Yes, exactly like a child!_ ”

Nori huffed and grabbed a pitcher from the shelf and filled it from the barrel while Dori glared. Nori just shrugged, took a deep drink straight from the pitcher and handed it to Dori, who did the same. At any other time, this would have made Nori collapse with laughter, but now it did not seem funny.

Dori put the pitcher back down and continued signing, albeit a bit more calmly.

“ _Do you now see what I mean? You did not take this seriously and now here we are. That boy is barely older than you. It is not right, and I know you don’t care, but many others will. I just don’t want to see her hurt, Nori._ ” He sighed, and sagged down on a chair. Nori sat down beside him, wondering.

“ _I’m sorry, Dori. You know I don’t care about opinions, but I do care about her. And you…_ ” he looked away. “ _This is very sudden indeed, and not what you wanted for her, but surely you can’t begrudge her either. She has been alone so long, you know… And we never get to choose who we love.”_

“ _Love_!” Dori answered, sitting up straight “ _Love!? How could it be love? He can not yet know what that means and she has forgotten it! She…_ ” Then he stopped again, reaching for the pitcher.

“ _You where about to say something very unkind, weren’t you?”_ Nori asked, carefully.

“ _Yes, I was. And I’m sorry, even if I did not say it. Nori, forgive me._ ”

Nori stared. That was the first time Dori had ever asked for forgiveness after a fight. But then again, he had never come so close to implying that their mother had not loved Nori’s father. For a long time, they sat in silence and drank, staring at the kitchen wall and thinking.

At last the pitcher was empty and Nori was starting to feel it, when he heard someone clear his throat in the kitchen door. Dori and he both looked up to see Hár standing there, looking uncomfortable, rocking on his heels.

“Um, Asutri has gone to bed, and I was wondering… could I speak with you?”

Dori rose briskly.

“Perhaps tomorrow, lad. I will be retiring now as well. Good night!” He said and brushed past Hár without a second glance. Nori sighed.

“Sure. Here, sit down.” He went and refilled the pitcher. If there was ever a night for heavy drinking by all concerned, this seemed to be it. This time he remembered to get two cups as well and handed one to Hár.

“I suppose we should apologise,” he began, “you can see that this announcement did not quite garner the appropriate reaction.”

“I can see that.” Hár answered with some sarcasm that he instantly seemed to regret. “I’m sorry. I know that you are not in favour of this. But I want you to know that I do love her, and would do anything for her, and will give my all to make her happy.”

“I do not really doubt that. But you must understand that this is difficult for all of us.”

“I don’t really see why! I love her and she loves me, what could be more simple?”

“Many things. Almost everything, actually.” Nori emptied his cup in one go and refilled it, while Hár drank more slowly. “Our family understands that better than most, I suppose. You know that my father is not Dori’s?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you know my father was a burned dwarf?”

“Yes. Of which you should be proud!”

Nori laughed out loud, though he did not quite know why.

“Proud, yes. Thats what they tell me to be…”

Hár looked at him with big eyes. He was a few years older than Nori, but still managed to look so much like a child. It was not comforting.

“Mother loved my father, you know? And she loved Dori’s father equally as much. Or maybe she did not love them at all, seeing as she is now with you.”

“I know very well that this is not normally done. But why? Why can she not love more than once? There is no law against it.”

“No law, no. But people do not understand…”

“I don’t care!” Hár exclaimed, springing to his feet. Nori leaned back and watched him.

“Obviously. You know, I do not really care either. I never held much on the opinion of others. And you do make her smile, I grant you that. But make no mistake, law or no, your standing is very difficult now, as is hers. You will make it worth it for her.”

“I will, I swear it!” He looked relieved, and Nori frowned. Subtlety may not be the way to go here.

“You will. Dori will not have the time to get to you if you do not, do you understand?”

Hár looked unsure. “I think…?” He asked. “Is that a threat?”

Nori suppressed a frustrated groan. “Yes, it is a threat.”

“Asutri is a grown dwarrowdam! She does not need your protection!” Hár cried indignantly and Nori laughed again.

“She might not. It is not about that. If you do not understand why my brother and I are threatening you, you do not understand much about families, and even less about mine.”

“I would like to understand. You are my family now too, after all. My own… is different,” he whispered, and Nori suddenly felt sorry for him. Those words where never a good sign.

“Alright, sit down and I will try to explain. Have another drink” He filled up their cups again.

“Hár, mother is far older than you. She is still very beautiful, but she has been through more hardship and suffering than either one of us can understand. You must know that she looks at the world from a very different position than you. We see her suffering and we want it to end. We can see that she is happy with you and are glad for it, but we are also afraid for her. She hast lost two lovers, you are the third. You do understand why we view that with some trepidation? Call it pattern recognition, if you will.”

“I will not fall!”

“No one ever thinks they will. Do you think father entered Azanulbizar thinking that he would not come out again? But anyway, it is less your death that we fear, but more the difference between the two of you proving to be to great. If you want to comfort me, don’t promise not to die. Promise that you will at least try to understand someone who has seen more death than you can know.”

Nori was rather gratified to see Hár actually pause to think about that. The boy was probably not an idiot, but his inexperience was painful to watch.

“I promise to try.” He said at last, and Nori nodded.

“Good enough.” He drained his cup. “Now I’m off to bed as well. Look forward to your talk with Dori!” He winked and left Hár alone in the kitchen and made for his rooms. The next few days would be interesting, but maybe he should try to be elsewhere for a while.


	22. Chapter 22

February 2861

 

Barely a month later Hár and Asutri were wed. It was a very quiet and private ceremony, officiated by the king and witnessed by Dori and Nori alone. None of Hár’s family had come. Not for the first time, Nori wondered at how little he actually knew of the boy. He knew that he was alone in the Blue Mountains, a Blacklock by birth and a warrior by craft, but that was about it. He had tried to ask, once or twice, but all Hár would say was that the past was behind him. Nori did not know much of the Blacklock clan and had only met few of them himself, so that was no indication. Though no matter what clan, they where still dwarves. It troubled him to imagine what could have driven a young dwarrow away from his family. Or maybe they where dead, that was never entirely unlikely.

Hár made no sign of minding however, in fact he never looked away from Asutri once. He was quite handsome in his best new clothes and he spoke all his vows without faltering and was beaming from ear to ear the entire time so that Nori found it hard not to smile as well. Despite Dori’s doubts it was clear that he loved her dearly and Nori for one did not believe that any amount of experience would convince him otherwise. Asutri herself was smiling as well, and if the fact that she had been here before clouded her mind, she made no indication. She spoke her vows as well, they all signed the contract, and it was done. 

After the wedding, the new couple went home and Dori and Nori stood outside the great hall, unsure of what to do.

“Well, I’m not going home right now, that’s for sure.” Nori said.

“Neither am I. The way they where looking at each other does not bode well.”

“That or it bodes extremely well, depending on how you look at it.”

Dori shuddered. “No, Nori, that is a direction our thoughts need not go.”

“Well, I’m going to take my thoughts to the tavern. You are always welcome to join me, you know.”

“No, thank you ever so much. I still have work to do. Or at least I could find some,” Dori said and walked off. Nori chuckled and made for the tavern.

Upon entering, he was about to go to his usual table when he saw Bofur sitting by himself in a corner with only a pint of ale to keep him company, so he went over to him.

“Hi there, miner! Is this seat taken?” He grinned, and Bofur looked up at him and smiled weakly. 

“Hi there, Nori. It seems to be taken now.”

“Yep,” Nori said and sat down. Now he noticed that Bofur looked very tired and that his ale was all but untouched.

“So, what has you out here, drinking alone?”

“I don’t want to drink alone, I just needed to get out of the house, once in a while.” 

“Hm, I know the feeling. Is this about your cousin?”

“Yes. He… Well, he is awake and alive, and we are very grateful. But he has lost much to his injury. Sometimes it is hard to watch.”

Nori did not quite know what to say, but Bofur continued, quietly.

“He is still fighting with his words and signs, and it is hard to communicate with him sometimes. He always drifts off like… like his spirit is somewhere else, and sometimes he sees terrible things and he is afraid. We try to teach him his words again, and keep him with us, but it is hard.”

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Nori said, and it sounded terribly empty to his own ears. 

“I should not be here,” Bofur said suddenly, and rose, “I need to get back.”

“No, wait!” Nori said and rose as well, grabbing Bofur’s arm. “Come, sit down again. At least finish your ale with me.”

“I really shouldn’t… He needs me.”

“He probably does. But he will still need you after you finish your ale and you look like you need that right now.”

Bofur sighed and sat down again. 

“That’s what mother said. She sends us away sometimes. But she never leaves herself.”

“Then how about this: You sit with me for a while and drink, and when you get back, you can send her away with the same argument.”

Bofur gave a wry chuckle, “I’d like to see me try.” 

They sat for a while in silence, but Bofur did drink. At last Nori decided to at least try and take Bofur’s mind off of things.

“So my mother got married, I don’t know if you knew.”

Bofur looked up. “Oh! No, I did not. Congratulations! That lad she was courting, what was his name?”

“Hár. You probably heard about the entire ordeal?”

“Well, just rumours here and there. Again, it’s not really a wise topic for gossip.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Dori that. He is convinced it is all everyone talks about.”

“Why would it be? I mean, he is very young, but… Is there something wrong with him?”

“Apart from terminal naiveté? No. But I managed to threaten him and he did not notice.”

Bofur laughed and Nori felt very pleased with himself again. 

“That’s warriors for you. Being brave to the point of stupidity comes with the territory, I think.”

“True. But no, I don’t really worry about him. Dori however is in a tizzy about the whole thing and since he can’t very well reprimand her for lacking respectability, he concentrates all his energy on me.”

“Well, that explains your presence. Or rather, your presence and the absence of dice.”

“I have my dice with me, if you want to play?” Nori asked with exaggerated slyness and Bofur smiled again.

“Ah, no. I like to think that ‘terminal naiveté’ is not one of my faults.”

“Very wise. I think you might do well, if you did play. But that would be bad for me, I suppose.”

“That it would. Getting cleaned out by a miner could be bad for your reputation.”

“Oh, I don’t know… I might come to like it.” Nori winked and Bofur blushed ever so slightly. He quickly looked down at his ale again to hide it, and Nori felt rather triumphant.


	23. Chapter 23

March 2864

 

Over the passing years, Thorin never ceased to be amazed by the changes to little Fíli. It always seemed like it was mere days ago that he had been a wailing bundle in their arms, but by now he had learnt to walk, albeit unsteadily. He was four and a half years old and was already learning to talk, though he signed far better than he spoke and it was difficult to get him to ever stop. He also liked to cling to adult’s shins and ride around on them, which seemed to be a lot more fun than walking himself. Thorin tolerated it with as much grace as he could muster, but this morning he had finally found the time to go to the forge again and had refused to take him there. This had been met with floods of tears and vehement protests, concluding with Fíli swearing to never speak with his uncle ever again.

This was why, after finishing his work for the day, Thorin visited the market to find something that would buy his nephew’s forgiveness. Dís always berated him for spoiling her child and not demanding enough of the necessary respect, but she also never had the heart to outright forbid it and Thorin secretly thought that the boy would learn all the respect and earnestness befitting a prince soon enough after his naming and the start of his lessons when he reached his tenth year. For now, he just wanted him to be a child.

Wandering across the market, he smiled at how much it had grown over the years. It was still very poorly compared to the market of Dale, but he saw a few stands that sold items not of necessity but of pleasure, which was always a very good sign. At last he came to the stand of Therûr the toymaker. In their poorer days she had worked as a tinker, he remembered, but now she was following her craft again, which was heartening. When he came to her though, he stopped in surprise and stared for a long second, before he reminded himself to stop.

Beside her sat a younger dwarrow on a stool, fiddling with something small and intricate, and he had an axe head embedded in his skull. Of course Thorin had heard the story of his miraculous survival and healing, but he had not yet seen him himself. It was more of a shock than he liked to admit. The axe’s shaft had been sawn off, but the blade still looked impossibly big and the dwarf already had streaks of grey in his wild hair and beard that seemed to match his eyes that looked very old and thoughtful, if not entirely present.

To stop himself from staring he approached the stall and nodded to Therûr as she curtsied deeply to him, keeping her eyes averted. He inspected the toys on display and found them to be of two distinct makes. There were stuffed animals, musical instruments, puppets of dwarven figures as well as intricate puzzles of varying difficulty and practice weapons made of wood. They where all very finely crafted, but the one kind struck him as strange, though he could not quite put his finger on why. Some of the puzzles looked impossible and some of the puppets had limbs twisted in unusual ways. Their expressions where very vivid, but often he could not quite tell what feeling they where supposed to display. Many of the stuffed animals where in fact monsters with endearing smiles. One of the practice weapons was an orcish scimitar.

He knew Fíli would likely want a wooden sword, but that might stretch his sister’s indulgence a little too far, so instead he picked up a stuffed dragon of black felt. It was a simple toy and very soft, but it’s smile was so full of character and life that Thorin found himself smiling back at it without realising at first.

“This one.” He said and handed her some coins.

“Thank you, your majesty!” She said and curtsied again.

He did not miss the beaming smile Therûr cast to Bifur as he turned away to head back to his own family’s home.

As soon as he walked through the door to the royal quarters, something collided with his leg and stuck there. He looked down to see a tousled head of golden hair.

“Uncle home!” Fíli exclaimed and then grinned up at Thorin, the previous quarrel obviously completely forgotten. He seemed very exited about something and babbled nonsensically, but with great enthusiasm.

Only hindered slightly by his new attachment, Thorin went over to his sisters rooms to find both her and Víli sitting side by side, his arm around her shoulders and they both looked up expectantly at him.

“Well, has Fíli told you yet?” Dís smiled.

“He was telling me many things, but I’m not sure I quite caught most of it. What was he supposed to tell me?”

“Thorin, I’m pregnant.”

Thorin nearly stumbled over his own feet, and then over Fíli, in his rush to get to her. He dropped to his knees in front of her and hugged her tightly around the middle. He did not quite trust his voice, so he hoped that the hugging would convey a little of what he felt. His sister was a miracle. Two children in five years! There would be another little bundle, another little babbling mop of hair. A sibling for little Fíli, who now seemed to be sulking at being dislodged and had latched onto his father’s leg instead.

As soon as Thorin trusted his dignity again, he let go of Dís and rose to clap Víli on the shoulder, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“I am very happy for you both and for all of us. Of all the marvels of our age…”

“Isn’t she just!” Víli grinned and put his arms around his wife again.

Thorin sat down on a nearby chair, feeling like his own smile must look almost as silly as Víli’s at the moment.

“Well Fíli, you are getting a little brother or sister! How do you feel about that?” He asked.

Fíli untangled himself somewhat and turned to look at Thorin earnestly.

“ _He needs his own toys!_ ” He signed, looking thoughtful. Thorin laughed.

“Yes, he or she will.” He signed back.

“ _And then I play with him!_ ” Fíli signed again, bouncing on his father’s shin.

“That you will, little one,” Víli said, “though you might want to wait a bit. He will be very small at first. He can`t really play until he is a bit older.”

At that, Fíli’s face crinkled up again, but before he could protest, Thorin decided to intervene.

“Here, Fíli, why don’t you play with this in the mean time?” He asked and then produced the stuffed dragon from his bag. Fíli’s eyes went very wide and he quickly let go of his father and waddled over to Thorin with his hands outstretched. When Thorin handed it to him, he pressed it to his chest and seemed to forget about his legs, dropping down on his behind without even noticing and proceeded to cuddle it for all he was worth.

Dìs was giving Thorin the eye.

“Now, Fíli. What do you say?” she said sternly.

He looked confused for a moment, but then looked up at Thorin.

“ _Thank you, Uncle Thorin!_ ” He signed and then turned back to the toy.

“Your welcome, Fíli. I thought you might like him.”

Víli was chuckling. “A dragon, Thorin, really? Who even makes stuffed dragon toys?”

“You remember the toymaker who got injured with the axe? He makes these now, as well as a lot of other rather strange things.”

“Hm…” Víli replied thoughtfully, but with twinkling eyes, “You know, Fíli, you will need a name for him.”

“Name…” Fíli mumbled, and then looked up.

“You could call him Ancalagon!” Víli exclaimed with a laugh.

Thorin and Dís both groaned, but Fíli contemplated this for a while.

“Anca…” He mumbled, and Thorin knew the name would stick.

 

***

 

As the weeks passed, everything went about as expected. The announcement of Dís’ pregnancy to the wider family and the kingdom was met with exuberance and wonder. She was doing well, but that did not stop her family from doing what they now felt they had a great deal of expertise in, which was smothering a bearing Dwarrowdam. Dìs herself seemed a lot more relaxed this time around and took it all with better grace, even if it did still fray her nerves some days.

Fíli was a barrel of excitement, at least on the days when he remembered that he was getting a sibling, and seemed to be under the impression that his mother was making a special playmate just for him. He was also fascinated with the process in question and badgered everyone with ceaseless questions about it. Thorin knew that these were bound to come some time and detailed information and instructions had been included in his own lessons, but he had been a lot older at the time, old enough to see that it sometimes made the adults uncomfortable.

“But how does father help with the making of the baby, when it’s inside mother all the time?” He would ask, in many variations, again and again.

Not many dwarves had ever been called cowards, but Thorin just comforted himself with the fact that no one would ever call him that to his face when he told his nephew that these things would be explained to him when he started his lessons, and to go and bother his father about it for a change.

As the expected date drew nearer, it was arranged that Fíli would stay with Balin and Dwalin during the birth. Fíli had taken quite a shine to Balin especially, because apparently he could sometimes be persuaded to to tell him stories that where slightly out of his usual age range. On one memorable occasion he had told him a slightly watered down version of the history of Ancalagon the black, which Thorin learnt as he walked in on his nephew reenacting scenes of that tale with his stuffed dragon and a bunch of toy soldiers, completely unconcerned with the mayhem his favourite calamity was inflicting. But then, his soldiers always got up again.


	24. Chapter 24

** December 2864 **

Snow was driving against the mountainside, the days had grown short and the date for the birth was almost a week overdue. Dís had gone into false labour once before and the entire house of Durin was considerably on edge. They were all sitting around the supper table, pretending to be interested in their food, when Dís gave a cry of pain and doubled over, nearly slipping from her seat as everyone leapt to their feet. Thorin and Víli rushed to her side to steady her while everyone else saw their main task in panicking. Thorin remembered to keep his head though.

“Balin, take Fíli. Óin, to the infirmary. We will follow as quickly as we can,” he instructed. 

Balin scooped up the prince, who was looking very confused and scared while Víli tried to get Dís to stand up.

“Can you stand, my love? Come on, lean on me and stand up.”

But apparently she could not. She had gone deathly white and sweat already stood on her brow as she tried to even sit up, groaning in pain.

“All right, we can carry you,” Thorin said to stop her from struggling.

After a brief gestured negotiation of tactics, he and Víli each took one of her arms across their shoulders and got a grip on each others free arms under her thighs. Víli was shorter than Thorin, which made the arrangement somewhat lopsided, but eventually they managed to stand and make a reasonably comfortable seat for her as they carried her out of the chambers to the infirmary.

This time Thorin got to see the inside of the birthing chamber. It was a small modified but natural cave with rough, living walls that where lined with supply cupboards and in the middle stood a slanted smooth marble bed that had ropes with handholds hanging down to it from the ceiling. All was brightly lit and quite comforting, but Thorin still shuddered at the bed and those ropes. He was not entirely sure what they where for or how this worked, but he guessed that no one who did liked them very much. The master healer and the midwife were already there and gestured for Dís to be laid on the bed.

“Has her water broken yet?” he asked and Víli shook his head.

“No, but she is in so much pain… It can’t be long now.”

“Alright, we will examine and watch her, but it could take a while. Her husband may stay until the birthing starts.”

Despite his worry, Víli smirked at Thorin. 

“So they actually will kick you out of here, your majesty. I always wondered.”

Thorin clapped him on the shoulder a little harder than necessary.

“Oh yes, they will. Though they are very diplomatic about it.” 

Then he stepped up to the bed again and kissed his sister’s clammy forehead. “Mahal’s Hammer shield you, sister.” But she just groaned again and he left quickly.

The waiting room was already packed with the house of Durin and their nerves, but Thorin just shook his head.

“This will take a while, the healer says. It has not started yet and Víli is still allowed to remain inside, so we could spend hours here, losing our minds. Have a table, water and my unsigned reports brought to me here and go back to your work. I will send a messenger to you when things change.”

They all nodded to him and left, and Thorin sat down on one of the benches. He was not in the ideal state of mind to work, but he was glad to have something to distract himself with that did not require him to leave the room for now.

And indeed it took more than three hours before he was startled from his reading by Víli, who came out of the birthing chamber looking pale and shaken. Thorin pushed the entire table away from himself and gestured to the empty space on the bench beside him.

“Thorin, this is not good… “ Víli whispered. “The child came down all wrong, the midwife looked worried… Oh Mahal shield us!” He groaned and buried his hands in his hair, dropping his head. Thorin’s heart lurched painfully. He had thought there had been something wrong the day the expected date had passed, but now he was afraid. He put his arm around Víli and drew him closer. 

“She is strong, Víli. She is stronger than any. And her child is strong as well.”

He was stopped from uttering more hollow comfort when Dís starting to scream. She sounded different now than with Fíli. Then she had been in pain, but now she was afraid. Víli tried to spring up from the bench, but Thorin kept him in place forcefully.

“No, brother, you will not be helpful in there. Come with me to summon the family instead.”

He then dragged Víli bodily with him out of the infirmary and into the hall, where they were both forced to compose themselves as Thorin summoned a messenger and sent him off the get Gróin and his sons, as well as Lín and Dwalin. Balin was to watch Fíli and did not need to know of their fear just yet. Then they heard Dìs’s muffled screaming again and Víli twisted out of Thorin’s grip and dashed back in. Thorin followed him quickly to stop him from foolishness, but only found him slumped on the bench.

He had not known before how quick and easy Fíli’s birth had been. This time it lasted for hours. The summoned family had arrived and helped to keep a hold of Víli while Dwalin wrapped Thorin in his arms, not caring who saw. They lent together and shook and prayed silently.

There was another, final shriek from Dís and then silence fell. Everyone in the room looked up expectantly, but no child’s wail was heard. They waited and waited, but there was only silence, save for Víli’s choked sobbing. Thorin felt the world around him fall away into the silence leaving him with nothing but dread and horror. Never before had he wished to hear someone scream, or felt the need to scream himself so badly. His heartbeat thundered away for long minutes until at last they heard a long wail go up. The baby lived! Dwalin rose up beside him, dragging him up, and he looked around to see Gróin and Lín do the same for Víli, who was swaying on his feet.

At last, the door opened and the midwife appeared. She looked very pale and her apron was soaked in blood, but she held a bundle in her arms.

“They live.” She said. “The mother lost consciousness and will take a while to recover, but her son is well.”

Víli gave a quiet gasp and then sagged to the floor, senseless.

At last, Thorin found his strength again and moved forward to take his newborn nephew in his arms. He was a tiny thing, far smaller than his brother had been, but he looked healthy and already had a thick shock of dark hair. Thorin cradled him carefully, not bothering to stop his tears. “Tell me true, what will become of his mother?” He asked the midwife when he found his voice again.

“Your majesty, the princess has lost much blood in the birthing and it was long and difficult. She will need to recover as one wounded, but we do not fear for her life. It will be some days however before she can nurse the child.”

At that, Lín stepped forward. “I will care for him, as long as Dís needs me to.” 

She took the babe from Thorin’s arms, who handed him over numbly and turned to the midwife again.

“Anything you need, anything we have is yours to command.”

She curtsied deeply to him and went back into the chamber.

After a while, Víli woke and was told a gentle version of what had happened. He wept, but stepped up to Lín and took his child, who had started to wail again, and kissed him tenderly. “You live” he whispered “my son.” He then looked up at the others and cleared his throat. “I present to you Kíli, of the line of Durin.” His voice broke again, but he seemed to be slowly regaining himself. “Let us go and introduce him to his brother.” And with that, they all trouped back towards the royal quarters. 

After the children where cared for they would have time to sit by Dís and sing for her until she woke, and to make new songs for the princess hero of the Blue Mountains.


	25. Chapter 25

When they entered the royal quarters, Fíli was already asleep, lying on the rug by the fire. Balin was sitting in an armchair above him, a storybook still on his knees and they all entered as quietly as the could. Balin took one look at Víli before his face drained of all colour.

“ _What happened?_ ” He signed.

“ _The birth was very difficult, but mother and son live,_ ” Thorin signed back. Then he sat down on a stool and felt the heavy weight on his shoulders finally get the better of him and he sagged, not even trying to stop himself. The others also sat down and Lín took the other armchair by the fire, Kíli asleep in her arms, and Balin went over to greet him.

“His name is Kíli,” Lín whispered and Balin smiled.

“Hello little Kíli. You will meet your brother when you both wake up. Won’t we have a job watching the two of you.” Then he went over to Thorin and squeezed his shoulder.

“You look about ready to drop, laddie, all of you do. Where is lady Dís now?”

“In the infirmary still. We will need to go back shortly, so that she does not wake alone.”

“I think you had all better sleep yourselves first. I will go to sit by her.”

At that, Lín got up again as well. “And I will go to and bring her son to her. She should not have to wake without him there.”

Balin knelt down on the rug by Fíli and shook his shoulder gently.

“Wake up, little one. You have someone to meet!”

Fíli was awake instantly and sat up, looking about. Now Lín knelt as well for the introduction.

“Fíli, meet your little brother, Kíli.”

Fíli’s eyes widened even further than when he had gotten Ancalagon and reached out to touch the little bundle, his face a picture of awe.

“Kí…” he mumbled and staggered closer, until he could look down at him.

“ _Hello brother!_ ” He signed at the baby, and Lín laughed. “He can’t see you with his eyes closed now, can he? You will have to talk to him with your voice.”

“Hi Kí!” Fíli exclaimed and Kíli promptly woke and started wailing.

Fíli looked confused for a moment and then turned away, pouting. Thorin quickly moved in to pick him up.

“Don’t worry about it, little one,” he said, “Kíli is very tired, and he does not like being tired any more than you do. It’s now bedtime for the both of you.”

As if that reminded him, Fíli suddenly yawned and rubbed his eyes “Momma?” He asked and Thorin carefully kept his smile.

“She’s asleep already. After making Kíli, she was even more tired than you are now.”

“Momma…” Fíli groused, but put his head on Thorin’s shoulder and fell asleep again.

 

The next day, Thorin woke up very early and did not waste any time. He made a minimal effort to look presentable and then rushed straight to the infirmary. Dís was lying in her bed, looking very pale and drawn, but awake, and Kíli was asleep in her arms.

“Well, good morning Thorin! Fancy seeing you so early!” she smiled, but her voice was weak and cracked.

“Dís…” He rushed to her side and bent over to kiss her cheek. “You are awake!”

“Yes, and so will Kíli be if you don’t keep it down.”

Thorin smiled as well and drew up a stool beside her bed.

 

Dís recovery was slow but steady and after three days she insisted on getting out of bed. She was unsteady for quite a long time after that, and it made Víli fret a lot more than was usual for him. Dís healing and the added burden of having two children not yet in their lessons to watch led to Thorin spending quite a lot of time with his older nephew. The lad was growing very bright and ever more sure of his feet, which meant that he soon discovered he could actually run off when Thorin was busy doing something boring. That was how he got his very first serious scolding from his uncle. But at other times, when he was given his will, he would spend a lot of time watching his brother, or telling him stories, mostly those involving dragons, to everyone’s dismay. But Kíli was still mostly too boring for Fíli to spend time with when he wasn’t allowed to tell stories, so they let it slide.

 

One evening, when Fíli had been especially creative in hiding, leading everyone on a merry chase through the royal quarters and tiring himself out completely, the brothers both slept on their favourite rug in front of the fireplace. Thorin and Dwalin sat, leaning against the mantel on the rug beside them, with Dís and Víli in their armchairs. This was the happiest they had ever been for nearly as long as he could remember, Thorin mused. For all the difficulties of the colony, it appeared as though finally, his family had truly found a home. Here he was, sitting by the fire with those he loved most in safety and in comfort, which was hard-fought and hard-won, but theirs at last.

Fíli and Kíli where born here and had never known anything else. They had never known the hardships of the road and of war, but they had also never known Erebor.

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

** January 2866 **

 

It was a bright, cold morning when Thorin and Dwalin stepped outside the gates with Fíli on Thorin’s hand and the snow was lying thick and heavy on everything, reflecting the light and still undisturbed in many places. Fíli looked about in wonder and tried to tug Thorin towards the giant snow drifts against the mountain wall. Dwalin followed slowly, kicking up snow as he went.

They had barely gone a few paces when there was a sudden and unearthly loud noise, a giant crash that shook the mountain and made the snow fly up with its force. Thorin instantly spun toward the sound as the air was filled with hissing and bubbling, and many voices screaming in terror. A spreading light went up from beyond the lower quarter houses down the road, bright yellow, almost white, with a great plume of white steam and black smoke, and Thorin saw flames lick up at the sky. In the second it took him to get his limbs to move, he knew. The furnace. He spun back to Fíli, who was standing frozen, staring down the road with his mouth open, scooped him up and thrust him into Dwalin’s arms.

“Get him inside,” He barked and then took off down the road running.

He had known that it would be bad, but he had not known how bad ‘bad’ could be. The blast furnace itself was gone. In its place lay nothing but a heap of rubble and burning wooden beams. The entire scene was covered in slowly reddening molten iron and slag, coating the ground, running down the street in thick rivulets, bursting in smaller blasts everywhere it ran over the snow and sending everything it touched up in flames. The two closest buildings where ablaze and the entire colony had come running. Some where standing, dumbfounded, some where running around aimlessly, some where kneeling or lying on the ground, clutching burned limbs. The very air seemed to burn with blistering heat. Thorin straightened up and drew in a deep breath that threatened to sear his lungs.

“Dwarves! To me!” He bellowed at the top of his voice.

Almost to his surprise, most dwarves immediately spun on their heels and rushed up to him. Time to get things done. He pointed at a group of five dwarves to his right first.

“You. Take the wounded up to the infirmary.” Then he turned again and divided the crowd before him into two groups with a sign and a gesture of both arms.

“You.” He pointed to the left group, “Make a bucket chain from the market well to the forge. Do not approach it, let it burn, but keep the fire from spreading.”

Then he pointed to the right group. “And you, do the same for the lower quarter well and see that the fire does not touch the remaining houses. Go!”

The groups took off in their appointed directions and Thorin followed the first. He would need to plan his next step, but his mind seemed completely blank. He decided to just pass buckets with his subjects until he had ordered his thoughts.

He had never seen a catastrophe like this before, no furnace in Erebor had just simply exploded, and he had not known that this was even possible. He would need to find out who had been feeding and who had been tapping, as those three where certainly dead, and it had possibly cost them more lives to the liquid death currently running down their road. He would need to find out what had happened, and how. Where they now stood with material supplies, if they could still uphold their trade agreements, if they could rebuild. If they should rebuild. Three dwarves, possibly more, had paid for the primitivity of that furnace with their lives. The entire colony would continue to pay. And then a final thought stopped him cold in his tracks. Víli. Víli had been on shift today. His thundering heart dropped to his knees and he staggered. 

As if on queue, his two messenger boys came running up to him. They stopped at a respectful distance and bowed deeply. Fear was still ripping at Thorin, but he looked at the boys who where staring at him in shock and terror and he took a deep breath again. This would not wait for his own confusion and fear. So much needed to be done, so he stepped up to them and spoke as gently as he could.

“I need you to get captain Dwalin and the guard out here to help oversee the fire fighting. And I need to speak to the smelter’s master. He will find me here. Go.”

They sped off at once and Thorin turned back towards the well. 

The bucket chains had been assembled with admirable speed, and as soon as there was something to do for everyone, much of the infectious panic in the colony had subsided. Once again Thorin was reminded how used to calamity all of these dwarves were, and how effective they were proving to be yet again in a crisis. Soon after, the royal guard came down the road and spread to assess who needed to go where and started directing efforts. Dwalin came up to him and stood close.

“Dwalin, I don’t know what happened.” He murmured under his breath. “How could this happen?” 

“I don’t know, my friend, I have no idea. Have you sent for the smelter.”

“Yes, but he has not come yet.”

For a while, they stood watching the chain and then Thorin headed back towards the furnace, Dwalin on his heels.

“What did you tell Dís?”

“The truth. I’m sorry Thorin, I did not know Víli was on shift today. Do you know what became of him?”

“No, but I fear the worst. I have not seen him. But I will find out before I speak to her again.”

“All right, my friend. Here comes the smelter.”

He came running up to Thorin and bowed. He had been very close to the fire, apparently. Half of his hair and beard where burned, and much of his skin on that side of his face and neck was red and blistered.

“Your majesty.” He said, out of breath, and then waited.

“Smelter, who was on shift when this happened?”

The smelter paled further under his burns and swayed. 

“I’m sorry, your majesty. Víli was at the tap.”

Thorin felt his knees buckle, and he might have fallen had Dwalin not grabbed his arm.

“I… I take it his body can not be recovered?”

“No, your majesty. He was the first to be caught in the blast.”

“You saw it then?”

“Yes.” He said simply, and then looked back down at his boots.

Thorin tried to lean on Dwalin as surreptitiously as he could and put at much steadiness into his voice as he could find.

“When the damage is contained, you will gather your guild. You will assess your losses and then come to me in the council chamber. I want a report of what happened and why, and of the lives it cost us. You are dismissed.”

The smelter bowed and walked away. Then Thorin spoke again to the messengers. 

“Go to all the guild masters. I want written, complete reports on our stores of material and goods. I want to know what we have, what we lost, and what we are now wanting. Ask them also how long this inventory will take and report back to me with that.”

The boys bowed as well and took off at a trot.

Thorin reached for Dwalin’s hand on his arm and squeezed it.

“And now, my friend, we speak with my sister.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, the furnace looked something like this:  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:HautfourneauXVIII_1nb.jpg


	27. Chapter 27

When Thorin and Dwalin entered the royal quarters, there was an eerie silence lying over everything. They found Dís in the sitting room, Kíli in his sling across her chest and Fíli sitting on her lap. She was looking very pale but composed, singing softly to them, and for a long while she did not look up when they approached. At last, she got up and addressed Dwalin first.

“Cousin, be so good and take the little ones.” She unhooked the sling and handed the sleeping babe to him and then bent down to kiss Fíli on the forehead.

“You go with Dwalin as well Fíli. Be good!”

Fíli looked very anxious and pale himself, picking up on the tension between the adults, but obeyed and took Dwalin’s hand, who lead him from the room, and Dís sat down again. Thorin, who had seen so much bad news delivered in his time, did not know where to begin.

“Dís. Víli was at the tap…” He began lamely. “He is gone.”

Dís did not react. She sat as still as the stone that bore her, perfectly straight and expressionless, and Thorin thought of the tomb statues of Erebor that represented the line of queens long gone. He sat down slowly before her and watched her eyes. Her face barely moved, but he saw her eyes go dim and spill over with tears that ran down her face unchecked, and she did not seem to notice even that. Thorin did not know what to do, or how to comfort her now. He wanted to embrace her, but he did not know if that would now be welcome. She looked so untouchable and cold. He slumped in his seat and fixed his eyes on the ground. He had started to lose himself in his thoughts as he was jolted back to himself at the sudden scream, so full of violence and anguish that it made him spring to his feet, just as Dís launched herself out of her armchair at him. He thought for a second that she would attack him, but instead she just barrelled into him, nearly knocking him over and clung to him with all her considerable strength. Her scream had given way to ragged breathing and suppressed sobs, and he wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could while having his ribs crushed painfully and felt her tears soak through his tunic.

For a long time they stood like that, unmoving, until at last she drew away again, her face red and tear streaked, but hard once more. 

_ “ What happened, Thorin? _ _”_ She signed. _“_ _ How could this happen? ” _

_ “ I don’t know, sister mine. _ _”_ He signed back, equally unwilling to disturb their silence. _“_ _ The smelter will report to me soon and I hope he will tell me. But I know Víli was caught in the blast first. I’m sure he did not feel anything, but he was also devoured completely. ” _

She turned away again and stared at the hearth fire.

“Again the fire.” She whispered with a cracking voice. 

He did not answer. Again the fire indeed. Víli was a burned dwarf now too.

“Bring my oldest son to me.” She said, her voice steady again. Thorin just nodded and left. Little Kíli could not be told in a way he would understand, but Fíli could and they would have to be strong for his sake. As Thorin searched for where Dwalin had taken him, his thoughts returned again to the state of the colony. Fíli would be named his heir when he started his lessons and he would inherit the Blue Mountain Hall and crown. But what kind of inheritance was that now? Half a ruin, and one that had cost him his father. Would they even be able to clear the site of the hardened slag before he saw it, before he would have to think of his father’s death every time he walked down that road? 

He found Dwalin and his nephews in Dwalin’s chambers. Fíli was dozing on Dwalin’s lap next to his brother, but woke up quickly when Thorin came in.

“Fíli, my boy, your mother and I need to speak with you.”

Fíli looked down again and did not move, but Thorin saw his tiny hands cling to Dwalin’s clothing, who shot Thorin a sympathetic look and freed himself from the little one’s grasp. 

“You will have to go with your uncle now, little one.” 

Reluctantly, Fíli obeyed, but dragged his feet as much as he could when walking on Thorin’s hand down the corridor. Thorin could not tell how much he knew or guessed, but his dread was very obvious. Not for the first time Thorin wished he had better words, but he could think of nothing to say. He never had words for these things, much less words that would comfort a child.

At last, he came back to Dís, who took Fíli onto her lap and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

“Fíli. Your father is lost to us. He died when the furnace exploded.” He just stared at her blankly, uncomprehending. “It means that he is not coming home again.” 

That Fíli did understand and his entire body seemed to crumple up as the tears started to fall and he wailed. She held him as he cried and endured his confused and panicked questions. Thorin sat beside them silently, before Dís looked up to him at last.

“There is a story your uncle needs to tell you, Fíli, so that you can understand. You must remember it well, for we will need you to tell it to your brother when he is older. Can you do that?” 

At the mention of Kíli, Fíli calmed down considerably and it tore at Thorin’s heart to see a child so young pull himself together for the sake of his responsibilities. If the fate of Durin’s line held he would be doing that a lot over the course of his life. But still he held out his arms to his nephew, who climbed over into his lap and latched on to him. He gave Dís a grateful look, because now she had given him the right words to say, and he stroked Fíli’s golden hair as he began to tell the tale of the halls Mahal had made for them to dwell in after death, and how they would wait there, and meet again, and at long last rebuild the world together.


	28. Chapter 28

Later that day the smelters had assessed the damage and the accident, but it all seemed very inconclusive. Thorin sat in the council chamber, the impersonal paper with the death report in front of him. Three lives had been lost to the initial blast and two more had died of the burns sustained by the molten iron going everywhere. The smelter sat at the other end of the table with his eyes downcast. Thorin cleared his throat.

“Explain to me what happened.”

“Your majesty, an explosion like that can only be caused by enclosed water.”

“Water? Water exploded the entire furnace?”

“Yes, sire. Water on molten iron is harmless, it boils and dissipates very quickly. But when water becomes encased in the iron, it also boils, but the steam has nowhere to go. It gets ever hotter and the expansion causes enough force to do the damage you have seen. It is the only way such an explosion can occur.”

“And how did water get into the furnace?”

“It was the snow, sire, and the tapping. The tapping disturbs the iron and slag, causing it so shift and send great heat up the chute. The snow on the roof melts. This happens every time, and the roof should hold for it, but this day it failed. All it would have taken is a loose shingle, causing bucket loads of water to pour into the chute. The iron hardens, but was still churning from the tap, causing the water to become encased. It was an affair of seconds.” The smelter groaned quietly and tugged at his beard with some violence, but pulled himself together again.

“So you mean to say this was a series of mere chances?” Thorin asked.

“Yes, sire. But it is also a fault in construction. Our furnace was a very primitive design, of the kind Men use, but they build in far warmer climes. We adapted for the snow, but not sufficiently, to our grief.”

Thorin rose slowly, leaning heavily on the table with both hands and the smelter shrunk into himself.

“How often did the roof get checked for faults?”

“Every year before the snow, your majesty. We can not check it when the snow lies. Heat waves can occur at any time; any dwarf standing on the roof in the snow could find himself up to the hips in an avalanche if that happened.”

Thorin growled in frustration and the smelter seemed to shrink even more.

“Can a roof be designed that will not gather snow? Or allow for the clearing from the ground?”

“I don’t know, sire. The roof was made by the carpenters.”

Thorin pulled himself up straight from the table and paced the space behind the table in silence for a while as the smelter started to fidget. They had not built the furnace into the mountain. He remembered that discussion when they had first erected the colony. The airing chutes for such a construction required extraordinarily stable rock right up to the surface, and the surveyor had said that it could not be done, not in the Blue Mountains. And so they had built their furnace like the Men do, to the worst possible catastrophe. Thráin had not trusted the design, but had relented. Thorin wondered if he had meant it to be temporary, even then. He stopped his pacing and looked back to the smelter.

“Rebuilding. What will it take?”

“It will take the clearing of the hardened iron and slag first. We will start as soon as it has frozen through. Then we will rebuild the foundation. We will need to reprise the design completely, with the carpenters and the masons. It will take long months.”

“So be it. Make the designs and show them to me when they are done, with detailed inventory of needed materials. You are dismissed.”

The smelter wasted no time in fleeing the council chamber, only just remembering to bow before leaving.

When he was gone, Thorin stood in silence for a long time, his thoughts whirling up a maelstrom in his mind. Following a sudden violent impulse he tore his crown from his head and with a yell he hurled it across the room, where it sprang off a wall with a clang. It did not make him feel better. The mountains would not help them in this and the designs of Men had failed them. The little pig iron colony had lost even that today, and their pig iron king was once again left with nothing to give them.


	29. Chapter 29

** 2869 **

 

In the years to come, when Kíli was learning to crawl and to walk, to sign and to talk, Fíli was always there with him. His responsibility as an older brother had been impressed upon him with a great deal of gravity and he took to his role with enthusiasm, determined to teach Kíli everything he knew, and many things that he did not. Thorin knew they would eventually have to clear some misconceptions out of both of them, but for now they all just watched the two waddle about and tell tall tales of adventures involving great craftsmen and warriors and of course, dragons. Also they often talked about the halls of Mahal, where their father was waiting for them. As they grew older and their imagination grew with them, so did those halls in grandeur, until they seemed to underlie an entire mountain range and thrummed with the lives of heroes. Thorin thought to himself sometimes that even the Dwarrowdelf did not match in reality what his nephews imagined in their minds, and the halls where Fíli would be king one day should be great indeed.

But it became ever more clear that the Blue Mountains would be hardly able to sustain such dreams. The rock was alive and well, for the most part, but it showed weakness in treacherous places, endangering the miners and making any attempt to build a furnace inside the mountains impossible. Thorin commanded the stone surveyed, again and again, but there seemed to be no way to make it work. The surveyor told him of his own master, who had been old by the time Erebor was taken and who had fallen at Azanulbizar. He had been said to be able to speak to the stone and make it grow after his will, but that skill was now lost, as were many others. 

Thorin would stand on the road beside the rebuilt furnace and forge and think on that loss ever more often. Once, their crafting skill had been legend, but here they were now, with a furnace of Men and working nothing but iron and steel. They still made worthy weapons and armour, but Thorin remembered the array of his grandfather’s guard and the splendour of his halls. Thrór had ruled the mightiest and most secure of all the western kingdoms, and Thorin’s heir would inherit nothing but this.

Time passed so quickly and soon Fíli had grown into a strong lad. On the day he turned ten he was presented to the court as Thorin’s heir and was named by his mother in the circle of his family. To Kíli’s great dismay, this did not include him for once, and both brothers protested at some length. “Why can I not tell Kíli my name?” Fíli would ask, and Thorin would answer, “because he is to young.”

“Custom deems him to young to keep a secret like that.” Balin explained in his very first lesson.

“Then I want the custom broken!” Fíli said.

“You cannot break the custom, young prince. Not without breaking yourself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What are you?” Balin asked.

“I am a dwarf!”

“And what does that mean?”

Fíli faltered. “I don’t know.”

“So that you might know, “ Balin told him, “I would tell you all of our history, our legends, sing you all our songs, explain to you all our knowledge and teach you all our customs. Then you will know what you are. If those things ceased to be true, so would you. We have lost much, but perhaps the most grievous loss is what we once knew and have now forgotten. That is why you cannot break the custom. We have lost much of ourselves, we will not give up what we yet have.”

Fíli was silent for a long while, but at last he smiled.

“So when Kíli turns ten, can I tell him my name first?”

“That you can, young prince.” Balin answered, smiling too.


	30. Chapter 30

** April 2872 **

 

After some time, a kind of normality and routine returned to Asutri’s family. Dori was slow to get used to Hár, but after enough time together they did start to get along, even better in the end than Dori got along with Nori. Not that he was really complaining. Hár was a very quiet boy, quite unlike the usual warriors, which made it somewhat hard to get to know him, but he was a kind heart and by the hints he made now and then Nori was glad that he had found a family of sorts, even this little strange one. Hár also showed nothing but reverence and love to Asutri, which would always serve to endear him to her sons. And then Nori came home one morning after a hard nights work to find Dori pacing up and down in the sitting room. 

“Where have you been?” He asked as soon as Nori entered, and there was an unusual agitation in his voice that stopped Nori from the snide remarks he usually answered with.

“What happened?”

“Mother is sick. She got sick in the night…” He continued pacing and Nori felt dread creep up on him.

“What… what is it?”

“I don’t know. We brought her to the infirmary at dawn and they are treating her for loss of fluids and sickness. They say they will know more soon. I came back to wait for you to arrive.”

“Oh. Where is Hár?”

“He is still with her. Fat lot of help he was, though.”

“Why, did he panic?”

“Of course he panicked, what do you think?”

Nori sighed. “Well, no surprises there then.”

Dori paced for long moments and then turned to Nori again.

“They said soon, and this is soon. We are going to her now.”

Nori tried his best to suppress his yawn and shake his head clear of ale and smoke and followed Dori out of the door. They came to the infirmary to find Hár standing outside, rocking on his heels and looking very pale.

“Well, what is the word?” Nori asked. 

“I don’t know!” He fretted. “They have not spoken to me yet…”

Dori growled and Nori grabbed his arm. But before he could do or say something to make everything worse for everyone, the door opened and the healer came out.

“Sons of Asutri? And Hár, yes, there you are. I have good news and bad news, in a way.”

Everyone held their breath, and Nori cursed some people’s inclination to make everything dramatic.

“The good news is, Asutri is with child.”

They all gasped, and Hár let out a quiet sob. Slowly, the message seemed to sink in for Nori. He would get another brother! That was great! Dori seemed to have somewhat lost control of his facial expressions, making it hard to tell how he was feeling, and Hár looked completely lost. Nori went over to him and gripped both his shoulders hard from the side.

“And the bad news?” He asked as soon as he had a good hold on him.

“The bad news is that she is very sick. Bearing can be difficult at her age and she will need much care. But it is not catastrophic, and we believe that she will be alright.

“Can we see her then?”

“Yes, you can. We will need to watch her for a few days before she goes home again, and we will teach you to care for her in that time.”

He then led them through the door and to Asutri’s bed. She was awake, but looked very pale and sunken, with dark rings around her eyes. Dori and Nori stepped closer as well and took her hands. She gave all of them the biggest smile Nori had ever seen on her, and it lit up her tired face like he would not have believed to be possible.

 

Predictably, the next months proved to be very difficult. Despite her great happiness, Asutri’s condition continued to be precarious and painful. They had a wide array of herbal concoctions to give her and they did their very best to care for her, but the way she just accepted it without protest spoke to the toll this was taking. Many nights Nori came home late to find Dori or Hár or sometimes both still up, sitting silently together, and Dori did not even comment on his whereabouts anymore. 

It was a freezing and painfully bright december morning when Asutri went into labour at last. Dori was the only one who seemed to know what to do, so Nori just followed his orders when he sprinted down the high path to get the healer, while Dori and Hár tried to make her more comfortable. Bringing her to the infirmary would probably have been better, but when they had found her that morning, white as a sheet and unable to even stand, that plan was quickly abandoned. And so Nori ran, nearly skidding over the cliff at both turns of the road and pelting into the infirmary with a shout. 

He was met with the usual level of indulgent and infuriating patience that seemed typical for the craft, but soon he was on his way back up the road, carrying the heavy bag of the healer and midwife who had sped up ahead. He entered his own home with great caution and found everyone crowded around the bed, where Hár was holding Asutri’s hand and Dori was fussing about aimlessly. Nori deposited the bag by the bed just in time to be shuffled out by the healer.

“You will have to wait outside,” he said, “and settle in. This will take a while.”

And so they found themselves outside the bedroom door, at a loss.

“Tea.” Dori announced at last and led them down to the kitchen.

There they waited for long hours, not talking and barely looking at one another. Dori made them tea and then started cleaning. When the kitchen was all but spotless, he started again. Hár just sat unmoving, clutching the cup Dori had given him, but he did not drink and Nori lent back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling, trying to breathe over the tight knot in his chest. He had never witnessed a birth before and all his knowledge on the subject was very theoretical, but he had never expected it to be this quiet. He had rather expected screaming, and he did not know if the absence of it was a good sign or not. Though judging by Dori’s increasingly jerky motions and absent mumbling, nothing about this was a good sign. Now and then he looked to Hár, who seemed barely present and found himself wishing he had some words of comfort for the lad, but all he came up with in his head sounded hollow and insulting even to himself, so he kept his mouth shut.

After what seemed like the entire day, at last they heard the wailing of a babe. Nori and Dori dashed for the stairs, barely noticing that Hár did not follow. As they reached the landing, the midwife came out of the bedroom, carrying their wailing brother, but her face was grim as she caught sight of them.

“The babe is well.” She said.

Dori did not answer, but took the bundle from her arms. Nori heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Hár standing behind them, his eyes fixed blankly on the midwife, swaying on his feet.

“Your son is alive, Hár,” she said, walking over to him and gently taking his arm. “He needs a name, and his father.”

Slowly, he turned his eyes to the babe.

“O-Ori” he croaked, “his name is Ori.” Then he shoved the midwife aside and went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.


	31. Chapter 31

Asutri was laid to stone the next day. To Nori’s surprise, the entire house of Durin was in attendance, as well as a rather sizable audience of the colony’s inhabitants. She had been a distant member of the line and also a very magnetic if controversial figure of the colony and the Longbeards in general, Nori supposed, but he had not expected the king himself to be there. He wished they hadn’t come, and throughout the ceremony he fought the need to shout at them. When Hár recited the ceremony by rote with a flat voice, everyone was quiet and respectful and it filled Nori with disgust. No one here apart from her sons and husband had really known her and cared for her, he thought. They had not been there when she was drifting, when she got sick and at last when she gave her life to her third son. When this was over, they would likely all go drinking and for once he would not join them, just so he would not have to hear their voices. 

 

It was a few days later and very early in the morning when Nori woke again to a babe wailing. Like most mornings before, he lay for a while, staring up at the ceiling and trying to remember what had happened and what it meant, even when his mind tried its best to shy away from it. After some moments he heard the door next to his open and his brother’s tired steps trudge down the stairs and he decided to get up too. His mind would do it’s thing whatever he did, so he might as well leave the house for a while and get away from the nerve wracking crying of his baby brother, and the even more nerve wracking silence of Hár.

He made his way down the stairs and into the living room to find Dori, cradling Ori in one arm and holding a bottle for him in the other. His hair was unbraided, and Nori thought it looked a lot greyer now, but maybe that was just due to the pallor of his skin.

“Morning Nori,” he mumbled.

“Good morning.” Nori rubbed his eyes, “Where is Hár?”

“In bed, I figure. Go and make us breakfast.” 

But breakfast came and went, and still Hár did not show up, until at last Nori went up the stairs again to drag him out of bed. When he opened the door to his room however, he found it empty. Everything looked very clean and the bed was made, but when he opened Hár’s closet, his clothes were also gone. Nori groaned and lent his head against the closet door with a thud. He had been so very quiet, had barely spoken more than ten words, had not eaten and consistently refused to even look at Ori. Nori had felt a lot of sympathy for him and had even talked Dori into giving him more time, but now all friendly feelings he might have had for the lad where utterly gone. And just as the cherry on the cake, he now had to go and tell Dori about this. He trudged back down the stairs to find his brother walking up and down the room with Ori in his arms, humming.

“Dori…” he began, and his voice broke. How do you say something like this? Before he could find the words however, Dori looked up and searched his face.

“What is it? What has he done?”

“He left. He’s gone.”

Dori made no sound, but his lips drew up into a feral snarl the likes of which Nori had never seen, and his eyes flashed. Just as he drew a deep breath, Nori supposed for shouting, Ori started crying again, which brought Dori’s temper down in record speed.

“I’m sorry, little one” he mumbled to the babe, “I didn’t mean to lose my temper. There, there, don’t cry. You still have me, little one…” he continued muttering and pacing around the room, leaving Nori ignored.

After a while of dumbly standing there, Nori just left the house, his eyes stinging. He walked down the high path and through the colony, just to turn around at the access point and walk back up to the mountain. Maybe if he walked enough he would find out what he was supposed to do, maybe he would find Ori’s treacherous father and strangle him. He felt his fury stretching through him like a living thing, made of black choking tendrils.

“Nori, Nori!”

So lost was he in his own dark thoughts that it took him quite a while to register that someone was calling his name from behind. He turned to look and saw Bofur trot up the road towards him, only to stop short when he saw Nori’s face.

“Nori?” He asked very carefully and took a few cautious steps forward.

Nori closed his eyes and tried to force his feelings from his expression without much success. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“This looks very serious. Come with me, will you?”

Nori let himself be led until they both came into a small alley between to houses, away from the prying eyes of the street. 

“Now tell me what happened.”

_ “ I have a second brother. Mother died. Hár left us.” _ He signed out in a rush, his eyes on the ground. He just heard Bofur gasp and found himself enveloped in strong arms and hugged tightly.

“I’m sorry, my friend, I’m sorry.” Bofur whispered. 

Nori let just let himself be held as the warmth seemed to seep into his very core and close around his heart, forcing a sob out of him as the tears spilled over in his eyes. He cried as quietly as he could into Bofur’s shirt, who stroked his back and pressed his lips to the side of his head.

They stood like that for a long time, until Nori felt the tendrils draw back somewhat and he straightened himself up to meet Bofur’s eyes, which where also looking rather red.

“I need a drink. Care to join me?”

“Lead the way.”

 

The next morning as he sat at the breakfast table with his brothers there was a knock on the door. He went to open it and found both Bofur and Bombur standing on the porch. Bombur was carrying a large tray, covered with a towel and smelling of honey cake.


	32. Chapter 32

** Juli 2879 **

 

As soon as Thorin saw Glóin that morning, he knew what had happened. Never one to hide what he was feeling, Glóin’s happiness seemed to radiate from him in waves, making it nearly impossible not to reflexively smile just looking at him.

“Svior is with child!” He announced, more than once, and took all the congratulations as his due as Thorin embraced him.

“That is great news, cousin! How is she doing?” He asked.

“She is doing very well. She is so strong, she was barely even sick this morning. She is with the healers now and I am headed back there now, will you come?”

“Gladly,” Thorin answered and followed him through the hall. 

They arrived just as Svior emerged, shining just as brightly as her husband and Thorin embraced her as well. 

“Congratulations and my best wishes, cousin.”

“Thank you, Thorin!” She beamed and then took her husband’s proffered arm. “The healers say I am doing very well, but I figure I will still find out how Dís felt when she was bearing, including the hovering?”

“Most certainly you will!” Glóin answered. “I practised this just for you.”

She laughed and leaned on him. “I am not her. I will take full advantage, make no mistake!” Together they made their way back to their quarters and Thorin followed, still smiling. They made a beautiful sight together, both equally broad, walking arm in arm with her bright blond head leaning against his even brighter copper, and everyone stopped to look at them as they passed.

As it turned out, she had been entirely truthful and Dís just shook her head and laughed. “I can not believe how well she is taking this. She gets even less time to herself than I did. She has admirable patience.”

“I think she likes it,” Thorin said. “She certainly looks like she does.”

“I am happy for her,” Dís said, suddenly serious, “I am glad for her happiness.”

Thorin felt his heart tighten. In all the excitement, he had not yet thought how this would affect her. But she glared at him.

“Do not look at me with pity, Thorin.”

He tried not to, but he had to turn away briefly to hide his expression. She was right of course, he should not. Now he pitied her and felt bad for it, which was probably not an improvement. But at least she had stopped glaring.

“You work on that some more, brother. I’m going to bring her tea.”

“Ah, so you are now involved in the smothering?”

“I would not miss it for the world!”

 

Months passed and Svior grew rather alarmingly large, though she took it all in stride. “Maybe it will be twins!” She said one day, stroking her belly. “Though I am not sure if I hope for that or not.”

“One is usually quite enough trouble, believe me,” Dís said. “To deliver as well as to look after.”

“I am looking forward to the one less than the other,” she answered with a laugh.

It turned out not to be twins, but instead a single, healthy male child and Thorin had honestly thought that they could not be this large. It had made the birthing very long and arduous, though the healers had said that it had been remarkably uneventful considering the child’s size. He already had a shock of red hair of his father’s shade and even a few hairs on his chin, which was unusual even for dwarves.

He was named Gimli, son on Glóin, and his father soon took to walking through the colony, accosting dwarves who did not have the good sense to look too busy to regale them with the various epic tales involved in the little one’s growing up, until bets were made when he would possibly stop. He never did.


	33. Chapter 33

** August 2882 **

 

As soon as little Ori turned ten, it was decided that Balin would teach him. He was, after all, of the house of Durin, however distant. Nori and Dori were equally surprised when Balin came to them himself that day.

“It is very kind of you to teach him,” Dori had glowed. “We are very grateful.”

Balin just smiled. “There is no need to be so formal Dori, I am happy to have the lad. I’m sure we will get along very well, won’t we, Ori?” He said to the boy who tried to hide behind his oldest brother. He was small for his age, very slight and seemed exceedingly shy, but while he did hide, he never did so in a way that would force him to take his eyes off Balin. When they had finally coaxed him away from his family, Balin noted that he seemed to grow a little bolder, and when Balin spent long hours talking and singing to him, his gaze and attention never wavered.

In fact, he turned out to be a very welcome change from the princes. They where not really bad pupils, but their patience did tend to wear thin quickly when the stories where not about heroes and great deeds of war or craft. Teaching them their letters and numbers had been rather arduous, as they both seemed to look upon sitting still for more than two hours as a cruel hardship indeed. But when Ori was handed his first wax tablet, the boy had not not wanted to rise again until he had mastered the shapes of the words and he had to be persuaded to leave them for long enough to eat. When Balin told him that he would in time also teach him not only the common tongue and script, but also the elvish characters, a certain awe came into his eyes that never quite left them again.

After it became apparent that not even a dragon was likely to distract Ori when he was immersed in his work, Balin began to teach him and the princes together. He would just sit in the back quietly and practice his writing or calculations, while Fíli and Kíli where subjected to their necessary lessons. 

One day Balin decided that it was time to introduce them to the subject of statecraft.

“Fíli, one day you will be king, and Kíli will have an important seat on your council. Ruling a kingdom or indeed leading any group larger than two is a craft and skill in and of itself, one you will have to master. I will teach you our laws and customs regarding this and soon you will be following your uncle, to learn what he might teach you. But I can see you both fidget again already, so I will propose a game to make this more interesting for you.”

At this, they both looked up hopefully. 

“Kíli: In this game you are the lord of a small colony. Your people prosper, after a fashion, but you know that if you removed to a different mountain, things could be better, wealthier and more secure. Fíli: You are the lord’s chief adviser. Moving the colony is an expensive and laborious undertaking. You think the people are against it and might be persuaded to refuse. Your task will be to find a solution.”

Immediately, both brothers turned and looked at Ori, who was writing away obliviously, and Balin smiled. This was going to be fun.

Ori soon found out that he had been given the role of the people in the prince’s game, much to his irritation. Fíli and Kíli where both loud and brash, and seemed set on disturbing his studies every time he was verging on some new thought or understanding. With far more enthusiasm than he saw as merited, they each set about trying to persuade him to follow one or the other and he just decided to keep his head down and ignore them, which was a lot easier said then done. He thought that they were bound to forget about it soon enough, but they seemed to stick to their respective objectives, and were always badgering him with increasingly ludicrous arguments about moving or not moving that colony.

“Why don’t you two just split up?” He had asked at last, exasperated.

That shut them up for a while and they stared at each other in confusion.

“That is not the way it works,” Fíli said.

“You are not playing the game right!” Kíli said and pouted.

After that they attempted bribery, and Ori got a lot of sweets and even some hours of instruction in the use of a sword out of it before they realised that it was useless. But still he found that spending time with them was really not that bad, once he got used to their ways. They knew a lot of stories he had never heard, and even when he learnt never to believe half of them he still found that he liked their tales a lot. Many of them where actually just enhanced versions of history, and he knew that much of that was often quite fantastical in it’s own right.

“You know, moving to the new mountain is very dangerous,” Fíli whispered to him in a quiet moment, when his brother was elsewhere for once. 

Ori just raised an eyebrow. “Tell Kíli that. Tell him, I don’t know, that a dragon lives in it or something. If you persuade him to stay, you will have won the game without involving me.”

Fíli just grinned. “Good idea!” he exclaimed and sprang up to find Kíli. Ori breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to have his peace and quiet back. 

The next day he was already sitting at his desk and well immersed in calculations by the time the princes arrived and announced to Balin that they were moving the colony.

“But we are going first,” Fíli explained, “you see there is a dragon in the other mountain, a great and terrible beast, and he has made himself armour of adamant and mithril, so we will go and kill him and take his coat, and use it to pay for the moving of everyone else!”

Balin just sighed. “Well, I should have expected that, I suppose. Next time I will think of something less likely to be expanded upon. But what did the people say to all this?”

“Oh, it was his idea! Their idea, I mean,” Kíli grinned, “about the dragon, anyway.”

Balin looked at Ori in surprise, who raised his tablet and tried to hide behind it, and he wondered. It was befitting the children of Durin to dream of great deeds, he supposed, and their plan did sound rather grand and adventurous, if not entirely well advised.

 


	34. Chapter 34

** October 2911 **

 

As soon as Thorin stepped out of the mountain gates he was hit with a chill wind that was already far to cold for the season. Shivering slightly, he wrapped his cloak about himself and stomped his feet. Next to him, Dwalin seemed to ignore the cold, but he did frown up at the sky.

“I see nothing strange about it.” He grumbled. “Why does Óin insist upon chasing us out here to look at the sky of all things? It’s grey. It’s cloudy. I’m supposed to be sparring with the lads.”

“Yes, and I was on my way to the forge. He said it was important. We’ll have to just see what he wants.”

Together they walked up the road to the higher quarters where the messenger said Óin was waiting for them.

“And why do we need to go up there? We can see just fine from down here…” Dwalin continued to grumble.

They went higher and higher up the road, passing the quarters, until at last they came to the high ledge above the gates, where Óin was standing, wrapped tight in a fur cloak and staring at the sky. When he saw them approaching, he bowed.

“Thank you for coming. Do you see that?” He pointed straight up. Thorin looked, but he had to agree with Dwalin on this. It was the sky.

“Yes…” He ventured carefully.

“That shapes in the cloud. It’s the wolf.”

Thorin shared a meaningful look with Dwalin and they slowly moved toward Óin together, getting ready to grab him.

“Óin…” Thorin said carefully, “Please come back from the ledge.”

Óin turned and gave him a look that was rather unsubtle in how it conveyed his estimation of Thorin’s intelligence.

“It is a sign, lad.” His tone of voice was even worse than the look.

“Alright,” Thorin admitted, content to delay his irritation until Óin was not standing above a sheer drop, “what does it mean?”

“This winter will be harsh.” He looked up at the sky again, with obvious trepidation. “I don’t just mean cold, Thorin. This, this will be a problem. Mark my words.”

“Alright,” Thorin said again, “we have good stock of food and fuel. We are prepared.”

“I hope so, lad, I hope so.”

 

Indeed, barely a week after Óin’s stint on the ledge, the snow began to fall, and it fell like nothing Thorin had ever seen before. It seemed to fall in billowing sheets and it was fine as dust, sparkling brilliantly in the icy sunshine. At first Fíli and Kíli tried to play in it, but it would not melt enough for building or even for snowballs, and when they tried to throw it, it disintegrated into clouds as soon as it left their hands. But still it gathered and gathered, and soon it piled up against the mountain and the houses of the colony. Almost every hand spent hours every morning, clearing the doors, the alley and the street, and when they returned from shovelling, their breath had frozen to crystals in their beards.

“This is unnatural,” Óin said to Thorin one morning, standing beside him in the gate again, “this cold should not be. Can you hear it? The very air is frozen.”

“I hear nothing, cousin, but I feel it.” He tried to wrap his cloak tighter, but that did not help. The cold seemed to have grown fingers that penetrated every article of clothing. He turned to Dwalin beside him.

“How are we for fuel? And I mean everyone?”

“I was meaning to bring that up. We have rationed it to last the season, but if this gets any worse, it will not be enough. If we need to stop the furnace, we will have to start doing it now.”

Thorin glared at the furnace down the road. The roof had been redesigned ably by the carpenters, and the little snow it gathered could now easily be cleared, but he did not trust it, and would likely never trust it again. 

“Yes, we will stop the furnace. We will stop the forges too, for all but the most necessary work.”

“I will tell the guilds.” Dwalin said. 

“Go to the weavers as well. Tell them the crown commissions a large woollen blanket for every child of the colony, and any family lacking the means can appeal for additional clothing as needed. I will not have them freeze.”

Dwalin nodded and set off down the road at a brisk trot to keep warm.

Thorin remained standing in the gate and watched his subjects go about their business while Óin continued to watch the sky. Had they started building the colony into the mountain from the day it was founded, by now all the families would be able to live inside. Instead, most still lived in the houses before the gates, and only the upper quarters lay partially embedded in the rock. This was no way for dwarves to live, Thorin thought. After the long years of wandering it had seemed like a definite improvement, but Erebor had housed many times their current number inside the mountain city, and the winters had never touched them, even if Thorin could not remember ever seeing one as cold as this. It seemed to have fallen in a matter of days, and the hours of light already seemed shorter than they should be. 


	35. Chapter 35

**December 2911**

 

For what seemed like forever, Bofur sat in his room by himself, practically on top of his tiny coal stove, trying to warm up. The cold had been bad for weeks now and slowly it had managed to creep into his bones and would not leave. He could put on everything he owned, as soon as he stepped outside everything was frozen through. He was not outside all that much, spending most of his time either in the mine or at the stove, but even the short dash from his door to the gate, through the hall and into the mines, was getting more and more trying. Especially now that he had to do it in the dark every morning and every evening. All fuel was strictly rationed and his small oven was barely able to heat up his room even in milder winters.

At last he got up again, cursed and tore his blankets off his bed, wrapped them around himself and then grabbed the bedstead itself and dragged it out of his room and over to his brother’s, whom he found in much the same huddled position.

“Come on, Bombur, this is pointless. We will all freeze like this. I’m moving in.” He announced and hauled his bed inside. With a laugh Bombur got up from the oven and helped him shuffle it into position next to his own.

“We won’t get mother’s and Bifur’s beds in here as well…” He said and Bofur shrugged. “No, but we’ll get them in. I’m getting my sack of coal, you go get them.”

Soon the four of them were all sitting together on the beds in one room.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Bofur grinned, “now we’ll find out again how badly we all snore.”

“Do you really think we can all lie in two beds?” Therûr asked. “Dear boys, you are grown dwarves, more than most even, in Bombur’s case.”

Bifur grunted in agreement. _“_ _If you roll, you’ll flatten us,"_   He signed.

“Well, I for one would rather be flat than cold,” Bofur said, “at least it will be cosy. Now then, what shall we sing?”

It turned out that they did in fact fit in the beds, even if Bombur nearly fell out once or twice. He did concede though that a room warmed with bodies and the additional coal was worth it. When Bofur woke the next morning, he felt truly warm again for the first time and was thus in far higher spirits than he had been when he went outside to go for his shift, and did not even feel the cold to badly by the time he got to the mine. Those high spirits quickly flagged however when he encountered the previous shift emerging from the mine. They all looked very cold and very pale, and their lips were blue.

“What happened to you?” Bofur asked of the nearest one, but he just shook his head.

“The mountain is frozen, lad, the mine is cold now as well.”

That was bad. Not only did that mean hours of work in the cold, it probably meant a lot of other things Bofur did not want to think about.

“It’s the Cold, you know,” the miner continued, “it crept into the mountain and it’s killing the stone.”

“Nonsense!” another said and buffed the first in the side. “Don’t listen to him lad, he’ll just fill your ears with fairy tales.”

Bofur looked after them in concern as they walked off. He did not believe the story himself, but if there was ever cause to believe in some kind of winter spirit infesting the mountain, this might be it, if the frost had truly reached the bowels of the Blue Mountains.

Work was uncomfortable and very chilly, but no evil spirits were forthcoming. The miners had exaggerated, it was not actually freezing, but it was cold enough to be uncanny anyway. Bofur was very happy to emerge again and make his way to the kitchen. Here it was always warm and this time was no different as Bofur sat down at one of the tables with the others and looked over to watch Bombur work at the stove. Had he become a cook, he could have worked in the warmth now as well, but he still liked to leave that to his brother, who did a better job of it anyway.

In the meanwhile the others at his table were occupied with retelling every scary or ridiculous story they could remember about the Cold, and Bofur rolled his eyes. Miners were by nature rather more superstitious than most and Bofur actually liked these legends a lot, but he felt that right now this was just a case of talking a bad matter worse.

When they had finished eating, Bofur stayed in the kitchen to watch his brother finish his work for the day. It was pleasantly warm, he felt pleasantly full and he was not eager to go out into the cold quite yet. Soon though Bombur had finished scrubbing the pots and came over to him.

“Ready to go out into the cold again?”

“Sure. Can never get enough of that!”

 


	36. Chapter 36

** December 2911 **

 

Nori had not been this close to his older brother in many years and he could not say he had missed it much. The three of them were wrapped in all their blankets around the stove and were doing their best to get along. Nori was quite certain that this would be significantly easier if Dori managed to shut up sometime soon, but his chances seemed very slim.

“Honestly, Dori, do you not tire of this topic? Can’t you badger Ori about something for a change?”

Ori drew the blanket aside far enough to cast Nori an accusing glare and then disappeared again, though the way he was still clinging to Nori’s side made it clear that no real offence had been taken.

“Ori is doing very well for himself, which you would know if you took a little more interest in his progress!” Dori protested. “Balin speaks highly of him and is convinced that he will finish his apprenticeship before his time. He might yet become the youngest of the scribes’ journeymen.”

“That’s great, Ori!” Nori exclaimed, glad for the opening. “Have you thought about what you would like to do for your apprentice piece?”

Ori emerged again with a bright smile and immediately launched into a rather extensive explanation of some translation he planned to do, why it was important and why it would be difficult, and Nori did not understand a word. But still he listened. Not only was Ori at his most boring still more pleasant to listen to than Dori at his most annoying, he was also indeed pleased that Ori was doing so well. Nori had never seen a dwarf find his craft quite as early, and it was great to see him so happy.

He knew his own search for a craft was all but pointless, because it was already done. It was no use though to explain it to Dori, as his mind on the topic was already firmly made up, but Nori knew what he was doing, he was good at it and liked it. Dori seemed to think that all he did was steal, but that was not actually true. It might have started as that, because picking pockets and making away with unwatched items was easy and every young dwarf needs a place to start with his craft. But the core of his skill was separating people from their coin, and there were many more interesting ways to go about that. Winning at cards, dice or bets for example was always lucrative and enjoyable, and no, his games were never actually rigged. The natural ineptitude of most made that completely unnecessary. People being predictable, easy to bluff and frankly not much smarter than the stone that bore them did not make profiting off of them dishonest. Or at least not illegal. And as for games of chance, Nori sometimes thought he was the only dwarf alive who actually understood what ‘chance’ meant. He had even once told a player outright that previous outcomes would never influence the future ones, but it just did not sink in. Privately he likened it a little to how a smith could explain to him how to craft a blade, but he would not be able to just do it, no matter how good the explanation. And people liked to play with him, so Nori just took their money as a kind of payment. That was his craft, and he was as dedicated as any smith. 

He had even designed his very own braids. Unfortunately, they did not seem to count as they should, but Nori liked the style a lot and so it stuck. When he first came from his room like that Dori had glared up a storm, but Ori had not been able to stop giggling for a day. And when Bofur had seen him, he had laughed for a long time and then hugged him, so all in all he considered the reception a full success.

But now this winter had to come and make his business more than a little slow. Dori was completely swamped in work and Ori did not care about the weather outside, but Nori relied on people having time and leisure, and right now all anyone wanted to do was go home and sit on the stove as much as possible and the people he did meet were uneasy and in no mood for games. The cold was bad, as was the ubiquitous snow, but there was also a pervasive sense of wrongness and dread that had settled over everyone, which was actually worse. There were many stories going around that explained the conditions in increasingly ludicrous ways and Nori had even heard one or two accounts of the end of the world already. He did not believe these tales, mainly because he always imagined the world would end in fire, but it was easy to see the origin of the tales. They had almost arrived at the winter solstice, the short days were often miserably dark themselves and all they could see when looking outside was a sea of snow. 

He shivered involuntarily and hugged Ori closer to himself, who had stopped talking and was now dozing against him, and Dori was freeing his arms from the blankets and wrapping himself up in his knitting yarn. Thankfully he did not pick up their previous bickering, instead concentrating on his work, and Nori found it to be surprisingly peaceful to watch him and to listen to his younger brother snore, while outside the snow still fell and fell, as if to bury them.


	37. Chapter 37

**January 2912**

Óin may seem to talk strange nonsense a lot of the time, but in this particular instance Thorin had to admit that he had definitely told them so. The passing of the winter solstice had been greeted with great joy by everyone, but for the following weeks conditions made no sign of improving. It was still dark and very cold, and by now the frost had truly permeated the mountain itself. Wolves had been seen roaming around the colony and Thorin had commanded the guards to watch for them. Defending against wild animals was easy enough when no one went outside, but many still had to. Also the darkness combined with the whirling snow made it hard to see, even by day. Now the guards lit fires at the access points of the colony and stood with their backs to them, squinting out into the darkness and snow. Every day when they came back from their shifts they looked more and more shaken. Thorin asked them about it many times, but no one would admit to being afraid to their king and so it was that one evening Thorin stood before the barracks, wrapped in all the furs he could find and armed for battle.  
Soon the relief shift came out, led by Dwalin, and they stopped and stared at him in surprise before they remembered to bow. All except Dwalin himself that is, who just strode up to him and clasped his arm.  
“Come to see the wonders of the watch for yourself, then?”  
“Yes. I expect to see nothing more than blackness, but the people are unquiet and are getting progressively more superstitious.” Behind them the guard shuffled uncertainly.  
“Well then,” Dwalin said, “we’ll see what that is about then, shall we?”  
He led the way and Thorin walked beside him with the guardsmen following. As they went down the road two groups left them for the higher accesses, but they went on until they came to the fire on the main road, just past the furnace and the crafters shops. The guard standing there bowed.  
“Nothing to report, sire. All’s well.”  
“Thank you,” Thorin said, “you are relieved.”  
Quickly they hurried off and Thorin and Dwalin took their place, facing down the road with their guardsmen to their left and right.  
“This is going to be right boring, Thorin, make no mistake,” Dwalin said, “I do hope you did not come for the entertainment.”  
“I did not. Also I’m quite sure your guardsmen can deal with any that might arise. I’m just here to watch.”  
“Watch the watchmen, huh?” Dwalin asked and even the guards chuckled and relaxed slightly.  
The hours of the night wound on and Thorin began to see what Dwalin meant. It was very boring indeed, as well as uncomfortably cold, despite the watch fire. They could not talk or sing and Thorin’s mind wandered far. The fire cast a wide orange circle around them where the light reflected on the white ground and the snow shimmered and gleamed, but beyond the firelight the dark of night stood like a wall. Only the snow drifted out of it towards them in whirling wreaths, until it met the warmth of the fire and melted with a hiss. Thorin knew that beyond the light the road dropped steeply downward into the lowlands and into the trees that stood at the mountain’s foot, but he could not see that far. For all he could see it seemed that the world ended only yards away and that they were standing on an island of light, adrift in a great void.  
Suddenly he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, it was only the snow, or his minds playing tricks. The further the night progressed, the more he imagined seeing shapes in the darkness, but every time he looked, again they were gone. At last Dwalin turned to him.  
“There is nothing there, Thorin. Its just our eyes, they make shapes of nothing.”  
But he was whispering. As subtly as he could, Thorin moved closer to him. It was not fear that lurked beyond his sight, but more a sense of waiting and of being watched. Often the gleam of snow seemed like eyes, though he could never meet them.  
An hour before dawn they suddenly heard the howling of wolves and all went to their weapons. They sounded far too close.  
“’Tis difficult to say how far they may be,” one of the guards said, “the cold warps the distance of all voices, we have found.”  
The howling went on for long minutes, coming this way and that, moving around, but never coming closer.  
“If they are wolves, they will not come near us,” the other guard said.  
“There is no need to assume they are anything else,” Dwalin answered, but he kept his axes in his hands and did not let his eyes waver.  
At last the air seemed to lighten and though the sun was not to be seen through the heavy clouds, day had broken and one by one the howls ceased and they lowered their weapons again. Only now Thorin found how tense his arms had been and they ached as he sheathed his sword. Soon the day shift arrived and they made their way back up the road. The guards went for the barracks, but Dwalin followed Thorin up into the hall, both in search of breakfast.  
“Now you know why the men tell strange tales of the watch,” Dwalin said as they walked, “the mind conjures up uncanny things in the night, out of boredom more than anything.”  
“It does indeed. I do think there is nothing out there but beasts and birds, but it is indeed easier to believe so indoors. I am more concerned about the conjuring minds in any case. The miner’s too are unquiet about the cold in the deep, and I fear for everyone’s courage this season.”  
“I do as well. But they have stout hearts and the winter cannot last.”  
“They should not have to fear the winter, Dwalin.”  
“And yet they do, with reason or without. You cannot protect them from that.”  
“I know,” Thorin sighed.  
“But seeing you stand out there with the guard gave them more heart than anything. If you do not fear, they will not. They love you and believe in you more than in the legends.”  
“Thank you, Dwalin, you hearten me. Still I wish they had more to show for all their loyalty.”

At last the winter ended. It went almost as suddenly as it had begun, a month before the spring equinox. One morning they saw the clouds draw back at last, the sun came out with blinding brightness and the people cheered in the streets. It was still very cold for some time, but just to see the sun again gave everyone heart. At last even the cold receded, and though the thawing of the snow and ice on the mountain caused floods of water to flow through the settlement, even that was greeted with joy.  
They had all survived the winter. In the last weeks some lone wolves had dared attack the watches, but there had been no serious injuries as the beasts were all weak with hunger and cold. There were also a few cases of frostbite, but all in all they had come out unscathed. The fuel and food supply had grown thin towards the end, but it had lasted, and now the furnace and the forges were being restarted, and life went on. But still the legends that had grown out of the darkness persisted. Thorin even heard songs made about them and about the season that would come to be known as the Fell Winter.


	38. Chapter 38

** January 2941 **

 

“I know what I must do, Dwalin, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

Thorin was sitting on his bed, shoulders hunched and hands clasped. Dwalin sat beside him, leaning against the headboard and watching him.

“But this is how it must be?”

“Yes. It cannot stand.” 

Dwalin flinched.

“I know, old friend, don’t I know,” Thorin sighed, “but you see what I see. This life we have here, this colony, it stands on knife’s edge. This is not our home, we are not the people we were. Everything that is ours by right lies in the claws of beasts. Everything that we are… Everything that was my father’s should be my heir’s in his turn.” 

He fell silent again and after a while he rose and paced.

“Dís said to me once that I would lead our people from nothing to greatness! And what do I have to show for that? Are my people safe? Have they regained anything of what they have lost? Have I given them back even a fraction of their home, their wealth, their knowledge? What have I done, Dwalin? I have sat here in false comfort as the years lengthened and I can feel the greatness of our past slip from my grasp forever. All we do is grow complacent until some new calamity strikes us. It then passes and we just sit back down again. The last is now long years past. I am sick of waiting for the next.”

“You have done much and your people know it. Even if you do not.” 

“But not enough. Fíli has never even seen his true home, why should I leave him that loss as well?”

“If your mind is made up then, it must be done.”

“Yes, but how can it? I do not command an army like my father and neither can I call in the allegiances he could. The heir of Durin they call me, but who will follow that name now, now that they have seen what we have become?”

“They will follow you. They will do as you command,” Dwalin said darkly and Thorin could not help a small smile.

“I’m sure you could persuade them, even if I could not,” Thorin sank down on the bed again, “but I will not command them to attempt an impossible task.”

“You are sure it is impossible, but do we know that? Much time has passed, and we have not heard tidings from beyond the Misty Mountains in decades. And we do not know that Dáin would not follow you. You could always ask.”

Thorin stood again.

“Yes. If I am to even consider this, I need news from the east. I need Dáin’s allegiance. I also need to know the state of the road. If I knew we could even get to the Lonely Mountain… I could meet Dáin there… But when my father went, the road was impassable.” 

Even if he had an army as large as Thrór’s had been, how much would it avail him against a dragon? 

Dwalin interrupted his brooding. “Well, these are things that we can find out at least. We can send a message to Dáin. If it arrives, we know the road to be passable.”

“But at great risk to the messenger,” Thorin argued, “also I need to know if the road is passable for me. When you travelled with my father you were attacked, but not when you returned without him, was it not so?”

“It was. We could choose a messenger and go with him as far was your time will allow. If the road is safe, we send him on and wait for word from Dáin. Then we plan.”

Thorin stopped again and looked at Dwalin, a true smile spreading across his face. It was not much, it was not even really hope, but it was a task he could undertake and hope to complete. It was a start.

“So be it. Will you come with me then, leave these poor halls for a while to see what has become of the world?”

Dwalin smiled too.

“Gladly, your majesty.”

 

When Thorin came to Dís and explained the plan she looked at him hard for a long time.

“You are set on this then?”

“Yes. I do not go to Erebor, I merely go to see if it might be done. Sister, you know that I must do this.”

“I know. But I wish that you did not. But well, as they say, wishes are vain. At least you are taking proper care in this. I hope you will use what knowledge you gather wisely.”

“So do I, sister, so do I.”

Then he kissed her and set out to organise his departure. 

 

He decided to leave with a small party. Himself and Dwalin, a messenger with his letter to Dáin and a guard of five that would accompany him all the way, whereas Thorin and Dwalin would turn back before the Misty Mountains. 

It was a clear winter morning when they set forth and most of the colony had come to watch them go. Dwarves lined the streets and leaned out of windows. They cheered for him, but Thorin knew that they were afraid. We was truly walking in his fathers footsteps now and he was leaving Fíli in his place as the prince regent. He saw the parallels just as well as everyone else, and so it was with considerable unease that he left the Blue Mountains and made his way into the lowlands. 

The feeling stayed with him for many miles, but the weather continued to be fair and they saw no sign of any foe on the road, so after a while his spirits began to lift again, as did those of his small company. He liked this part of the country, the lands between the mountains and the farmer’s country of the Halflings. It was still mountainous for many leagues, but it had routes of easy riding and comfortable night camps in the green valleys, and he found that he did not miss the daily dealings of the colony as much as he had thought he might. Though now greater worries by far were on his mind, it was a welcome change not to be buried in paper and it was even more welcome to have a sense of finally being able to act.

They came up to a tall standing stone along the road and Dwalin pointed to it.

“Here we were attacked first. We might see trouble before we reach the Shire. That land is guarded and we will not have to fear much there. But until then we must be on our guard.”

They watched their way carefully after that, but nothing happened. When they reached the Shire unmolested, Thorin felt even better. This was a good sign, as far as it went. 

Travelling through the Shire was strange though and Thorin did not like it. The land seemed prosperous in its own way, as did the inhabitants, but the looks he got from them reminded him sharply of the way the men had looked at him and his kin in their wandering days, careful and suspicious mostly, if not with the same open disdain. Some even seemed curious, but no one spoke to them or asked any questions. He knew very little about the people that lived here and they looked simple to him, farmers mostly, short and rather soft, apart from their strange bare feet. They hurried through with few stops. 

After the Shire the land became wilder very suddenly and Thorin was again reminded why it was said that a spell lay on the Halfling’s country. As soon as they crossed the border river the road ran past a very dark forest to the south and a wide and barren land to the north and it was obvious why no one dwelt here any more. There had been a great kingdom of men once to the north, but it was now deserted and Thorin knew not to trust any living thing one could now meet there. But even if the land seemed unfriendly they met with no resistance, all the long way to the Misty Mountains.

Thorin had not seen that range in what seemed like a lifetime now, but he found little joy at the sight. It was very grand, especially compared to the Blue Mountains, but he knew it was no home to any dwarf, not anymore. He did not think about the places beneath it that were now dark.

As they came into the foothills, Thorin stopped the company.

“I have come as far as I planned and we have learnt that the road is clear. Clearer in fact than we could have hoped, which seems very strange to me. Nonetheless we will take this as a sign that you can continue on to the Iron Hills without fear of undue trouble. Mahal’s hammer shield you, messengers. Return as swiftly as you may with my cousin’s answer and with any tidings about Erebor and its lands that you can gather.”

The messenger and his guard bowed deeply and turned their ponies towards the mountains, just as Thorin and Dwalin turned back to the west.

“So, my friend,” Thorin said, “We have learnt what we set out to learn, little as that may be. It makes the road to my task seem possible, if not the task itself.”

“Well, that is more than what we had. And if nothing else, at least we have learnt not to miss the road.” Dwalin grinned at him and urged his pony on.

 


	39. Chapter 39

**15th of March, 2941**

 

It was late in the evening and already dark when they finally arrived back in Bree. The weather had turned rainy early that morning and they were both wet and cold and glad to have reached an actual inn to stay in for the night.

Thorin liked the Prancing Pony. It was a tavern of Men mostly, but the city of Bree belonged to Men and Halflings alike and lay on the junction of trading and travelling routes that passed through Eriador and was thus friendlier to Dwarves than most other human settlements. That and the ale and food was very good.

After dinner and changing into drier clothes, Thorin and Dwalin joined the common room. It was crowded with all sorts of folks, but they still managed to find a table against the wall and looked around. Two local Men were currently regaling the gathering with a rather rowdy drinking song to much applause from both Men and Halflings. Three rangers were sitting by themselves apart from the group, arguing quietly over a map on their table. The room was dim and filled with smoke and Thorin lent back against the wall to watch the patrons, a pint of ale in front of him.

After a few more songs and quite a bit of drink the call went up for songs from the strangers and Dwalin rose with a grin. He climbed up onto the table and started to sing one of his songs least fit for polite company, much to everyone’s delight, and Thorin could not help but laugh along with them.

As he turned to survey the room again he saw a large figure sitting a little aside from the rangers. He was an old man with a very impressive grey beard, clad in dusty grey robes. Thorin had seen him before, if only briefly, but had heard more than a few tales about him. He was called Gandalf in the common tongue, he remembered, and was said to be a wizard and a great traveller. So after some deliberation he rose and approached his table.

“Master Gandalf, I know you only by sight, but I would like to speak with you. Indeed I would have done so before, if I had known where to find you.”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“That is strange, Thorin Oakenshield, for I have also thought of you lately. I am travelling to the Shire, but that is also the road to your halls, is it not?”

“If you want to call them that. They are but poor lodgings in exile. But if you would come, you would be welcome. They say that you are a great traveller and know and understand much of what goes on in the world. There are things on which I would very much like to hear your tidings and counsel.”

Gandalf looked at him thoughtfully for a while.

“I will come. We do share one trouble at least, do we not? The Dragon of Erebor is troubling indeed, and I don’t think that would be different for the grandson of Thrór?”

Thorin could not quite keep the surprise off his face. Now that was a very strange coincidence. But still, the wizard would likely know more and might have some valuable advice. And if he was personally troubled by Smaug, he might be persuaded to help. Gandalf then looked to Dwalin, who had now started on his second song, and he smiled.

“You are not alone, Thorin. And there may be ways to be found.”

With that, he emptied his mug and rose to leave. Thorin went back to his own seat, but he was no longer listening to Dwalin sing, or watching the room. He might not have the old allies anymore, but maybe he could gain some new ones.


	40. Chapter 40

It had only been a few days since their arrival at the Blue Mountains when Gandalf made good on his word. After temporary lodgings had been found for him he came to Thorin in the council chamber.

“So I gather you are thinking about Erebor,” he began, “you are planning on taking it back.”

“Planning may be too strong a word. You must know that our means are rather slim. When the Dragon attacked our home we had the entire army of Erebor at the hight of its power. We were routed. Now all I have is this colony and the people you see here. They are loyal and valiant, but they have seen my father embark on the same quest, with disastrous results. I have sent word to the other clans and to my cousin Dáin, but they will not have forgotten what happened the last time an heir of Durin called for their aid.”

Gandalf nodded. “You will not have an army, Thorin. And even if you had one, that might not be the way to go about it. But you should not give up hope. Did you know that the ravens are returning to Erebor?”

“No, I did not. It is long since I last heard tidings from the east. When the answer of Dáin arrives, I will know more.”

“Then for now, know this. The ravens are returning. The dragon has not been seen for sixty years. For the men that live near the mountain he is rapidly becoming nothing but a tale the grandfathers tell. I have spoken to many people of many folks and there are some who now think the mountain might be deserted.”

“Does that mean that others would attempt to enter it?”

“Maybe. The risk is still high, as it would be for you, but it is being calculated.”

That was both good news and bad. Rather what one would expect from a wizard, Thorin thought wryly. But still, if others attempted to take the mountain before him… Well, not much really. They did not actually have a better chance than he did.

“Do you think the mountain is deserted, Gandalf?”

“No, I do not. But neither do I think the quest would be hopeless. There is more than one way to retake a kingdom. The dragon is a great danger and to attack him with an army would be folly. Smaug is great and very strong, force is useless against him. However I often find that a task impossible for many may not be so for a few.”

“But how would that be done?”

“This is not a task of open war. This is a task of secrecy and cunning. A task of burglary, if you will. Luckily for you, I have a person in mind who would be perfect for this quest. A professional burglar, you might say.”

“Who is this burglar? And why would any stranger help us?”

“He is not a stranger, he is quite well known to me. And he will help you for his own reasons, which include the adventure and maybe a share of the recovered treasure. He is a Hobbit.”

“A Halfling! But they are a soft people, certainly no fighters.”

“It is a good thing that I did not say I found you a fighter then. I expect you to provide the fighters. I provide the burglar, and I will even accompany you for as much of the road as my time allows. If you will do this, gather those of your kin that will come and meet me at the Hobbit’s home after you have heard from your kin abroad. His name is Bilbo Baggins and he lives in the hole beneath the hill in Hobbiton. I will mark his door so you will not miss it. This quest will be difficult and quite dangerous, but with our combined skills I believe it can be done.”

“Then I thank you, Gandalf. My kin and I will meet you at this Halfling’s home. I hope he is all you say he is.”

“He will be. Now I will be leaving again to make the arrangements. Do not tell anyone of this venture, beside your kin. This is perhaps the most important!”

And with that, he rushed out of the council chamber.

Thorin sat for a long while, deep in thought. Who could he bring? Regardless of what they would do about the mountain, a small group would no doubt be easier to travel all the way into the east than an army, but if they were too few they might not make it. And there was still the question of who would even join him. Gandalf’s plan did not sound as promising as he apparently thought. But if other people were actually thinking about moving on Erebor and the wealth and legacy of his people, he had no choice. 

They had all suffered and lost so much. If Thorin did not do this they would fade away, a forgotten people living in hovels, because their kings of old had been wronged and their king of the present had done nothing to avenge them and to return them to the heritage they should have. There was no choice, not for him.


	41. Chapter 41

 

At long last Thorin rose again, his mind made up. He would need to recruit as many as were willing to follow him, but first he must speak with his closest kin. He went in search of Dís and found her alone in her chambers, staring into the fire as she so often did now. For a while he stood in the door and watched her, feeling a familiar pain claw at him. Of all his line and all their suffering she had lost the most. It was not right that she must live like this.

“Dís,” he said quietly and approached, “I must speak with you.”

She looked up slowly. “Is this about the wizard? What have you learnt?”

“I have learnt of a way. Or well, at least a way he thinks is possible. He will help with the regaining of Erebor and I have decided to follow his advice.” He sat down beside her and took her hand. “You know that I must do this. You know I must at least try.”

“Yes. You must,” she interrupted him, her eyes hard. “I know I said that I wished you did not have to, but that kingdom is ours by right, as is its wealth and recorded knowledge.” She stopped again and turned back to the fire. “We thought we could live here,” she continued more softly, “and for a long time I really thought we could. It did not seem so bad, and you have given us much. But…” She fell silent again.

“I know, sister, I am sorry. Of all this exile has cost us, your losses have been the greatest. I will take back our home, and you will see our kingdom restored, and your son will sit in safety and peace on the throne of Erebor when his time comes.” He squeezed her hand.

“My son…” she whispered, “will you take him with you on this quest?”

“Yes, I will. We will be few and we will need all the loyal and capable fighters we can find. I fear that we will be too few as it is.”

“I understand. Then you must take my youngest also, for he will not suffer to be left behind, you know. But don’t look at me like that, “ she smiled suddenly, “you know as well as I that they would both come with you whether you would take them or not. Do not feel sorry for that. Just… just take care of them, will you?”

“I will, sister, I give you my word.”

He lent over and embraced her, holding on to her for a long time. 

After that he went down to the training grounds and found his nephews where he had expected. He lent against the wall of the barracks for a while and watched them spar. They had grown up fine and strong, even if their youth showed in their slim forms and short beards, or rather stubble, in Kíli’s case. They were still hardly more than boys in many ways, a fact for which Thorin was always secretly grateful. Too many dwarves had already been hardened and scarred by battle at half their age and the fact that they were allowed to grow up like this was one of the few things he looked upon with pride. But their lack of practical knowledge of the world and experience in battle might be a problem on their journey. Still, they both wielded their weapons with much grace and skill, Fíli with his twin swords twirling and Kíli with his single short blade, precise and quick. Kíli had also developed impressive skill with a bow beyond his years and Fíli could throw axes and knives with great accuracy. Thorin found himself smiling as he watched them and listened to the rapid clatter of their wooden swords. 

At last they spotted him where he stood and came over, grinning and wiping the sweat from their brows.

“Uncle! Have you come to join us? You promised you would and we could certainly beat you this time!” Kíli called.

Thorin chuckled. “I’m afraid I will have to leave you with that notion for now, boys. But I have made a plan and must speak with you about it.”

Surprised, they looked at one another and shared a small shrug before setting the practice weapons back on the rack and followed Thorin up the road. When they reached the council chambers, he sat them both down and took his own seat.

“No doubt you have seen the wizard come and leave?”

“The old man? He was a wizard?” Fíli asked, “why did he leave already?”

“His name is Gandalf. He brought tidings from the Lonely Mountain. He also shared a plan with me that might enable us to take it back. We will go with few and we will meet someone he recruited to help us on the way.”

At that they both leapt up, chattering over one another.

“A quest!”, “A quest for Erebor!” “We will take it back!” “We are coming too, don’t think you can stop us!” “We will give that dragon what-for, just watch us!”

Thorin laughed and held up his hands to quiet them, but then grew serious again. “Yes, of course you will come. I will need you in this. But I also need you to understand the gravity of this quest. It is very dangerous and unlikely to succeed. I am not leading you on an adventure, I am leading you into great danger.”

They both suppressed their smiles somewhat, though Thorin could still see the excitement in their eyes. They would follow him right into the maw of a dragon, he knew, but he would not be able to stop them from cheering about it all the way. 


	42. Chapter 42

When they left the council chamber in search of dinner they came across Dwalin, who was headed the same way.

“Did the wizard find you, then?” he asked, “I saw him leave in a hurry.”

“Yes, he found me, and he shared information and something like a plan with me. We will eat in my chambers and I will tell you.”

Thorin ordered a messenger to bring their food to them and they sat down at their sitting room table and ate. 

“He told me that the ravens where returning to the mountain,” Thorin said between bites, “he also told me that the dragon has not been seen for decades and that others are now wondering what became of him and of our treasure.”

“Then we will need to move. If Dáin answers your call, we could do this.”

“Yes. But whether Dáin is with us or not, I will go. Gandalf believes that we could be successful with a smaller group and retake the mountain with secrecy and cunning, rather than force. He knows someone who can help us with that and he has promised to help us himself.”

“Well, that is news. When are we going?”

Thorin smiled at his friend. “I want to wait for word from Dáin. But then we will leave at once. Our travelling must be kept as quiet and secret as we can manage. We are to meet Gandalf’s friend in the Shire on the twenty-sixth day of April.”

“The Shire? He is a Hobbit?”

“Yes. From what I gather, he is not like most of them. Apparently he has some special talent for burglary, or at least Gandalf believes so. We will just have to wait and see.”

“Aye, that we will. Well, it is good to have a plan at least and to be on the road again!”

“Ah, then you can get in line behind my nephews for being excited about an impossible task and a long and dangerous journey.”

Dwalin grinned and clasped his shoulder. “Far and dangerous or no, we are with you. I am with you, in this and always.”

Thorin sighed. He knew that all too well. He hoped they would not regret it.

“Also, another thing,” he added, “when we went on the journey the road was clear, but I still do not trust it. I want you to take an escort and scout ahead for trouble. Go as far as you can and then come to the Halflings home to meet us and send the escort home.”

Dwalin nodded and then embraced him. Thorin lingered for a moment before moving back far enough to press his forehead to Dwalin’s. 

“So it begins, my friend.”

Next he went to find Balin, who was in his chambers, occupied more with the tome in front of him than his dinner. He looked up when Thorin entered and smiled.

“Well, I see the wizard caused quite a stir. What did you learn?”

“Much that would make my task seem less impossible. The ravens are back, the dragon has not been seen for a long time and Gandalf will help us. I must do this, you know I do. I came to ask, are you with me?”

Balin sighed. “Of course I am with you, laddie. Where you go, we follow, you know that. But still I would have you consider our odds.”

“I have considered our odds. At great length. For nearly a hundred years now, ever since my father left. He left for Erebor and never even arrived there. His death in unavenged, his dream unfulfilled, my people still in poverty. You know there is no other way. You know what we have lost, Balin, better than most. How many generations would you see grow up like this.”

“I would like to see a generation grow up without war, Thorin.”

“We do not make these wars, they are made on us. And we will not give up who we are and what is ours by right.”

“No, we will not.” Balin lent back in his seat and was silent for a while. “Who will you bring on this quest?”

“I will leave with a small group from here and meet Dáin on the slopes of Erebor, if he answers my call.”

“And if he does not?”

“Then we do it alone.”

Balin combed his fingers through his beard.

“Well, there are some here who will come. Your direct kin will of course follow you wherever you lead, but some of your people might come as well. You know, that makes me think of my young journeyman, Asutri’s boy. He has his very own courage and he could record our travels. And if we can win his brothers for this venture, we would have two more, both quite capable in their own way, it is said.”

“Alright, ask the boy. If the sons of Asutri are interested in this, I will certainly not turn down their help. Gandalf has procured an ally for us, one of the Halflings. He calls him a burglar and says he will be useful. I am hardly in a position to turn down anyone’s help.”

Balin looked up in surprise.

“A Halfling, you say? That will be interesting indeed.”

“What do you know of the Halflings? Are they of any use?”

“I don’t know much, my lad. That is what makes it interesting, now, isn’t it?”


	43. Chapter 43

 

Interesting. Well, that was certainly one way of looking at it and Thorin was not sure if he felt heartened by the reactions of his family. He had not really been surprised by their support, but he could not help but wonder what he was getting them into. His cause was just, he knew. The Lonely Mountain was his by right, and theirs also, as was revenge on the dragon that had taken everything from them and plunged them into more than a century of suffering. But were they coming because they felt the same anger and the same desire? Or did they follow him for his own sake?

One way or another, it was now time to consider the more practical aspects of the journey. It was indeed very far as well as very difficult even if they were not attacked, and Thorin did not trust their luck on that front. He would need good fighters of course, but he also needed to support them along the way, which brought him to the sons of Gróin. He went to Glóin first and found him in the treasury, bent over piles of paper and rattling away at his abacus. When Thorin entered, he rose.

“Thorin!” he boomed, far to loud for the small room, “haven’t seen you here in some time, lad. What brings you?”

Thorin removed a stack of paper from a chair and sat down.

“I have come to tell you about a journey I mean to take, and to ask you to come.”

“A journey, hm? Well, you have my interest at least.”

“The wizard Gandalf visited me today and proposed a plan for the retaking of Erebor,” Thorin said and ignored Glóin’s sudden intake of breath, “he said the ravens were returning to the mountain.”

“The ravens? There was a prophecy concerning them, I am sure, though I don’t quite recall. Ah, the ravens… “

“Well, I will take it as a good sign, prophecy or no. Also Gandalf has found us a burglar, as he calls him, who will help us get into the mountain. And if Dáin agrees to the request I sent him we will have an army by the time we arrive.”

“Good, good, that sounds good… Well, count me in! But you will be needing more than just an army to get there now, won’t you?”

“Yes. I trust you will be able to find the sufficient funds for this journey? Our group will be small, few more than my closest kin, but we will need ponies and supplies.”

“I will handle it lad, don’t you worry about that. Have you told my brother yet?”

“That is where I am headed next.”

“My son would also come, if you asked him.”

“Would you want him to come?”

“He is a fine lad, and already as good an axeman as any. Did you know he almost got the drop on Dwalin the other day?”

Thorin laughed. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“But no, he will not come. He will not like to hear this, but should we fail, he will be the last descendant of Borin. He must stay.”

“As you say, cousin. Thank you.”

He left the treasury and headed straight for the infirmary. He had not known that there was any kind of prophecy connected to the ravens, but it was a potentially useful piece of information for persuading people, whether or not it was actually nonsense. He found Óin in the infirmary kitchen, cooking some brew that smelled foul enough that it would likely motivate Thorin out of a sickbed, should he ever find himself in one. He tapped him on the shoulder.

_ “ I must speak with you, _ _”_ he signed, _“d_ _ o you have a moment? ” _

“Yes, yes…” Óin answered, taking the pot off the fire and turning to Thorin.

_ “ I have been told that the ravens have been seen returning to Erebor. ” _

“Ravens! It is said that their return would herald the end of the beast.”

“Yes, exactly. I mean to go and take back the mountain. I will travel with a small group very soon and meet Dáin in the east if he agrees. Your brother will come and I need someone with your skills in healing on the road. Are you with me?”

Óin’s eyes lit up. “A quest! A quest to reclaim our home and slay the beast! Yes, I will come.”

Thorin smiled and clapped Óin on the shoulder, “I knew I could rely on you, cousin. Thank you.”

Óin just bowed and turned back to his work.


	44. Chapter 44

Nori was just wandering the streets towards his home when Ori came running up to him, his face flushed and a bag of writing utensils swinging loosely from one hand.

“Nori, Nori!” He called, “I have news! News and a question! Is Dori home?”

“I don’t know, what is it?”

“Wait till we are home, oh he will want to hear this!”

He took off at a jog and Nori followed somewhat more sedately. Ori was often excited about things when he came from Balin, so this was nothing new. When they entered, Dori had already set the table for Dinner and smiled when he saw his youngest brother bubble with excitement. Nori took his seat at the table and turned to Ori again.

“Well then, out with it, what is so exciting this time?”

“We are going to retake Erebor!”

This statement was met with resounding silence as Ori stood, bouncing on his feet. Very slowly and deliberately, Dori put down his teacup.

“Who is doing what now?” Nori asked.

“King Thorin is setting out on a quest for Erebor! To kill the dragon!” Ori answered, clearly oblivious to Dori’s darkening expression. 

“And master Balin asked me to come! Well, he might have said I was allowed to come…”

“You will do no such thing,” Dori stated decisively, “you are not going to run out into the blue on another one of these doomed quests.”

Ori visibly deflated. “Thráin’s loss was a long time ago,” he protested, “and this is Thorin! And they are all coming, Balin and Dwalin and Óin and Glóin, the entire house of Durin.”

Well, this was interesting. If there ever was an opportunity to find riches beyond imagining, Nori thought, this would certainly be it. And if it could be done, and he had been there to help…

“Just think about it, Dori. If we see this done, we would be heroes of Erebor, you know.”

His brothers both looked at him, Ori with delight at the unexpected support and Dori with disbelief. “Dori. Who would ever say anything against our family again if we helped regain the kingdom of the Lonely Mountain?” And who would even take notice of his lack of real crafting braids when he decided to court, he did not add.

Dori just stared at him.

“Yes, if, if! Have you forgotten about the ruddy dragon? Not to mention what happened to Thráin? And you are suggesting Ori follow such a quest?”

“No, I am suggesting we all follow it,” Nori stated simply, leaning back.

“I am not afraid of the dragon!” Ori piped up and Dori gaped at him.

“That has to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard, Ori! Have you been talking to the princes again?”

“No…”

“You have, haven’t you? They always put these ideas into your head with their recklessness.”

Ori drew himself up and took a deep breath.

“I am going on this quest, Dori. I am of age and you cannot forbid it. And that is that!”

Nori could not help it, he jumped up and embraced his brother. “Good lad, Ori!” He exclaimed and Ori beamed at him while Dori groaned.

“Anyway,” Nori said, “I am coming too. Oh, this will be made into so many songs.”

“Songs, yes…” Dori grumbled, still looking at Ori with annoyance, “don’t think that just because you are of age, Ori, that you can now just up and do as you please.”

“But it is two against one now!” Ori retorted.

“This is not up for a vote! What makes the king think he can do this, anyway?”

“Gandalf will help him!” Ori said, “and he found us a burglar who will get us into the mountain and help us kill Smaug.”

“Gandalf? The wizard?” Dori asked, suddenly interested.

“You know him?” 

“Well, I know of him. He is said to be very powerful…” Dori sounded contemplative. “If anyone knows how to deal with a dragon…”

“And it would be good for all of us.” Nori spoke up again, “Ori would see more of the world than just the inside of the scribe’s library, and we could make a name for ourselves. A new one, that is.”

“I will have to think about this,” Dori addressed them both, “but I make no promises.” The last part was already being drowned out by his brothers’ cheering.

 


	45. Chapter 45

It was later than usual when Bofur emerged from the mines that evening. They had experienced slight trouble with the pulleys and stayed late to repair them, so it was well past dinner time when he came out into the great hall. He found Nori leaning against a pillar and grinned. The day was looking up already. They had not had the time to talk for some days now and Bofur had already started to miss him.

“Bofur!” Nori exclaimed and embraced him. Bofur hugged back and laughed.

“You are getting full of coal dust again, you know?”

“I don’t care, I missed you.” Nori grinned and Bofur’s pulse sped up, at it tended to do when Nori looked at him like that, or admitted things like that.

“And also I have a question for you. Or a suggestion.”

“Well?” Bofur asked and started walking toward the exit. Question or no, he wanted to get to dinner. Nori fell into stride beside him.

“Our noble lord and king, Thorin II Oakenshield, plans to go on a quest to reclaim the long lost kingdom of Erebor.”

Bofur stopped in his tracks and stared at him.

“You’re serious? Erebor? That is news and no mistake! And I guess he just told you this in passing?” He winked and started walking again.

“No, actually Balin asked little Ori to come along, and so I find myself going as well.”

“Oh.” Bofur said and stopped again. “You… When are you leaving?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you to come. It’s a far journey and there is a dragon at the end of it, but rivers of gold and fame as well. Not to mention he will probably pay for the beer along the way.”

That did sound interesting, but still…

“What, me, go on a quest? With a king?” That sounded like a bit of a stretch at the best of times, and there was also the matter of his family. “Nori, I don’t know. I can’t go without Bombur and Bifur. I can’t just leave them.”

“Well, then bring them along. See it as a family outing of sorts.”

This was ridiculous. This was madness, but it was also a chance to win a living for his family beyond what any of them could ever dream of. Before he knew it, Bofur was already packing in his mind.

“I will ask them. I may just be crazy enough, but I will see if they are as well. I might not quite phrase it like that though…”

Nori laughed and clapped him on the back. “We will start at the beginning of April and make for the Shire first, where we will pick up a Halfling that is supposed to help us somehow. And I’d be glad if you came along.” Then he turned and headed toward his own home, while Bofur made his way to his, deep in thought. This would require some tactical finesse.

He entered to find his family already finished with dinner, though they did seem to have left him some. 

“You are late,” Therûr said reproachfully.

“And I’m sorry about that. Trouble with the pulleys,” he answered and sat down, tucking into his stew. “I came across an interesting proposition though, on the way back,” he began between mouthfuls. When he was sure of everyone’s attention, he continued. “I may have found us a means of earning a great deal of gold, and fame, and adventure.”

His brother and his mother traded glances while Bifur’s attention remained fixed on him.

“Apparently the king plans to go and reclaim the kingdom of Erebor, and he will take any willing to help. And reward them richly for it in the end.”

The silence in the room was becoming rather deafening, before Bombur cleared his throat. “A quest?” He asked, “a journey to a dragon? Have you been dropped on your head recently?”

“Think about it, brother! The entire house of Durin is going, what could ever stand in their way? We’re just along for the ride. And the food.” He winked.

Therûr spoke up at last. “Have you thought this through? Oh, what am I asking, of course you have not. It is a ridiculous idea! Just the two of you, with a king?”

Bifur suddenly slammed his fist down on the table, making everyone jump. _"_ No, ” he signed, _“_ _ if you go, I go. You are not going without me! ” _

Bofur smiled. “Thank you, cousin. Bombur, what about you.”

“Hm, I don’t know…” he muttered and looked to Therûr, who sighed.

“If you want to go, I will not stop you. I hardly can now, can I? But you would be gone so long…”

“I know, mother, and I am sorry for that. I will miss you just as much. But think what this could mean for us,” Bofur said.

“Our life here is good,” Bombur argued, “the work is hard, but the pay is decent. It is not a bad way to live.”

“No, it is not. And Thorin is a good king, despite our odds here. I’m sure he could do as well against worse.”

Bombur snorted. “It’s not our king I’m worried about. But if you are set on going, and Bifur too, I will come. This had better be worth it though. Do you know how far Erebor is?”

“No, not exactly. But how far can it be?”

 

When they were done eating and cleaning up, Bifur cornered him in the hallway. 

_ “ This boy of yours, son of Asutri, is he coming too? _ _”_ he signed.

“Yes, he is. His brothers too, I gather.”

“I’ll have my eye on him!” Bifur exclaimed in his still slightly slurred Khuzdûl, and stomped off for his bedroom and Bofur laughed. This was looking like a lot of fun already, and no dragon was getting past Bifur any time soon.


	46. Chapter 46

**April 2941**

Dwalin had been gone for a few days now and the date set to meet Gandalf drew closer. Thorin was sitting with Balin in the royal chambers, going over a list of provisions.

“The messenger should be returning soon,” he mused, “I would like to have Dáin’s answer before we leave, but if they can’t make it, we must leave anyway. We might meet them on the road.”

“It is unlikely, though possible. Still, we have some time left. I hope they will arrive in time, we should really hear some news from the east from someone else than the wizard. He has his own reasons for helping us and might also have reasons not to tell us things.”

“Yes, certainly. I will wait for the messengers for as long as I can. You can ride ahead to the Halfling’s home, and I will follow as soon as I may.”

“I will do that. But do not delay to long. I will give instructions to Asutri’s sons and they will leave in their own time.” Balin rose and gathered up the scattered pages. “I will leave tomorrow at dawn.”

Thorin nodded. “Travel safely, my friend. I will see you soon.”

Balin nodded and left.

Fíli and Kíli would go on the road tomorrow as well, as would the others. He had been very surprised at the unexpected volunteering of the sons of Therûr. They were not of his house or line and owed him their allegiance only as citizens of the colony, nothing more. Still, they had offered and he was glad to accept. From what he understood they had some connection to Asutri’s family, though how such a thing came about he had no idea.

The group he would be travelling with was a lot smaller than he had hoped, but still he took heart when he thought of them. They were all a little mismatched and strange, but he thought that might fit his purpose quite well. A band of warriors young and old, a scribe, tinkers and toymakers, but they had answered his call and were willing to risk everything for the fortune of their family. He felt more kinship with them than he had thought possible before. In the end they were all in this for the same reason, and they had skill and determination. Interesting, Balin had said. That was certainly one word for it.

 

***

 

Fíli and Kíli were to set off by themselves. Thorin had wanted them to stay and wait for Dáin’s envoy, but after a lot of whining, according to Thorin, or very good reasoning, according to Fíli, they had been allowed to leave to scout the road, prove themselves on their own for the first time and take a first look at their prospective burglar. This of course meant that they were missing out on a long wait, a boring meeting and a hard ride to catch up with the company. But at last, Thorin had relented. He was sitting in the council chamber when they came to say goodbye.

“Well,” he said, looking up as they stood in the door, “your first journey alone. Do not dawdle on the way, do not get yourselves in trouble and be on time.”

“We will, uncle, don’t worry. Don’t be late yourself!” Kíli said and then quickly dashed out of the chamber before anyone could admonish his cheek.

The last day they had spent with Dís had been filled with reminders to behave, to always listen to Thorin, not to ride with wet smallclothes and not to march with wet socks. Kíli did not have the heart to either protest or laugh, she looked so pale that day. Not for the first time, Kíli had wished that she could come.

“It would not befit her station,” Fíli had told him, “and anyway, who would rule the Blue Mountains if not her?”

They both did not envy her. It would be a long and lonely year with no one but her young cousin Gimli and more distant relations for company, and a year full of doubt. Fíli had tried to convince her many times that nothing could go wrong and that she need not worry, but she had pointed out that worry was all she could do in the time they were gone. For all the reverence the last living Dwarrowdam born of the direct line of Durin enjoyed, Fíli and Kíli would not have wanted to be born female.

She embraced each of them for a long time and kissed them. “You must take care on the road,” she said, “of one another and of Thorin.”

They nodded and murmured agreement.

“I know this does not seem very serious to you, but if you would heed only one of my warnings, please heed this one: Thorin is in danger. Not only in the same danger you all share, but in some all his own. You know the story of your grandfather?”

They both nodded again, suddenly uneasy. They had never liked that story.

“It is a danger that runs in our line, and in you as well. Do not darken your hearts, but do not take your eyes off him either. He will need you in this, more than he knows.”

They shared glances. “We will, mother.” Fíli said at last, but Kíli found no words.

“I love you both. My thoughts will always be with you.”

They embraced her again before mounting their ponies.

They had just started riding when Gimli came running up to them. “Wait, wait!” He called and they stopped. “Were you going to leave without even saying goodbye?” He asked, somewhat out of breath.

“We are sorry about that,” Fíli answered, “but you were not here.”

“No, I had to climb out of our window to see you leave. Mother was convinced I would run after you if she let me out of the house.”

Fíli and Kíli both laughed. “And would you?”

“Well, maybe,” Gimli grinned, but sobered again quickly. “No, I would not have. I dearly wish to come with you, you know, but I could not leave her alone, or cousin Dís.”

The brothers stopped laughing as well and looked away.

“Anyway,” Gimli said, “I wish you all the best of luck, you are going to need it. And when you are done, I expect detailed stories and all of the songs. I will need to know what I have to do to exceed your deeds when the time comes!”

They both smiled again. “You will have them, Gimli. Keep the Blue Mountains standing while we are gone!”

They turned their ponies and rode away from both Dís and Gimli, who stood side by side and watched them leave until they were long since out of sight.

 

***

 

By the time they could no longer see the colony their unease lifted and they rode out of the Blue Mountains singing. The weather was fine for early summer, even if it did rain occasionally, and unlike Thorin they did not find the quiet road suspicious.

“What do you think the burglar will be like?” Kíli asked when they were fording the river.

“I have no idea. Hobbits are said to be very small and sneaky, that’s why Gandalf chose one as our burglar.”

“Yes, but why a burglar? Will he steal the entire treasure hoard? By himself?”

“Maybe he will sneak inside and kill the dragon for us.”

“I thought that was the wizard’s job. If there ever was an expert on dragons, he would be one, wouldn’t he?”

“I have no idea, Kíli. I don’t know any wizards beside Gandalf, and no dragons. Apart from Ancalagon, that is.”

Kíli grinned. He had briefly contemplated bringing the old toy on the journey, for the poetry of it, but had decided that it would probably make him look rather childish. They were both adults now, on a noble and heroic quest and Thorin needed their help. If that did not make them adults he did not know what would.

 


	47. Chapter 47

 

The sun was already high in the sky when Nori had finally finished packing and came to join Óin and Glóin and Bofur’s family in front of the Gate. They had decided to start in good time, so they had no need to rise too early or ride too hard and would enjoy a rather leisurely pace to the Shire, where they would meet the king and his nephews as well as their burglar. There was much speculation on what he might be like, as the description given by Gandalf was minimal at best. They only knew that he was a Hobbit and lived in a hole in a hill with a marked door, and that was about it.

“It is said that Halflings have their own magic, a magic that makes them very quiet and hard so spot,” Óin remarked as they rode and Glóin huffed.

“Have you never seen a Halfling before? They are not a sneaky people and certainly not magical. They are just farmers, more primitive than even the men.”

“Not really,” Ori piped up from the back, “they are no great craftsmen, but they are quite well off. And they have been around for a long time, though there are few records of their deeds. But they have glass windows and finely woven cloth, is what I heard.”

“I heard they do no deeds at all worth mentioning,” Glóin answered, “they care for little except food and comfort, and they do not fight. Also they trade for many of their crafted items.”

“They do not trade for cloth,” Dori mused, “and not for glass either. Also they grow pipeweed, much to the enjoyment of some I could mention.”

Nori laughed. “You enjoy it well enough yourself, brother. I have been to the Shire and they did not strike me as that much more primitive than men. But they do lack ambition.”

 _“Men are not primitive, Nori,_ ” Bifur signed, “ _you have not seen their fortresses in the south. They are very great and the Halflings do not build their like.”_

“I have not. Though I might visit some day. Provided I survive this quest for our own, that is.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?” Bofur laughed, “maybe lay off thinking about our death before we even reach the mountain.”

“Alright, alright,” Nori conceded, “but I would still like to know what use a Halfling is supposed to be.”

“We will find out. They can’t be completely useless, they defend their land somehow and they survived the Fell Winter, though all their land and water was frozen to stone.”

“Well, they are likely to have good food at least,” Bombur said, “maybe the burglar will trade me some recipes.”

“He might, if he’s not too busy running from a dragon,” Glóin said, “and I would like to know how he can help us far more than how he prepares his potatoes.”

“When we reclaim the mountain there will be more use for potatoes than swords, you know. At least I hope so.”

“That’s the idea,” Bofur said, “reclaim the home, slay the dragon and bring peace and prosperity to all. And potatoes.” He grinned at Bombur.

“If it can be done,” Dori muttered quietly and then shot a warning glance at Ori before he could protest, “and I don’t want to hear anyone say they are not afraid of the beast! We look foolish enough as it is, no need to provide proof.”

Ori kept quiet, though he did look a little mutinous as soon as Dori looked away. This was interesting, Nori thought, and he came up to Ori as soon as their brother was out of line of sight.

 _“Don’t worry about him”,_ he signed, _“he can’t mother you forever.”_

Ori sighed. “ _That’s what I thought forty years ago for the first time. He won’t stop.”_

_“If he stops or not, this quest will let you prove yourself as an adult. Alongside the princes of Durin, no less!”_

_“Is that supposed to make me feel better? They see me as a child too.”_

_“That’s the point. You’ll show them!”_

Ori cast him a grateful smile. _“I’m no great warrior, I know that. But King Thorin brought me along and I will not let him down! Dragon or no dragon!”_

Nori smiled. _“I know you won’t, lad. Just try not to get burned in the process.”_

_“Oh, don’t you start as well. I’m not likelier to be burned than Thorin himself, unless his Oakenshield turns out to be fireproof!”_

“Are you two still on about this?” Bofur asked, suddenly riding up beside them.

Nori steered his pony up closer, so he could bump knees with Bofur. He winked, Ori groaned and Bofur laughed.

“You know you are not the only one out to prove themselves, don’t you, Ori?” Bofur asked. “In fact I know of one certain rogue who will certainly earn more than treasure at the end of this.”

“Really? What are you earning, Nori?”

“Why do you just assume he means me? A rogue, honestly…” He grumbled in mock offence, but Ori was still looking at him in confusion.

“If I help regain the Kingdom of Durin’s heir, Ori, that will come with a certain status, you know? But I won’t count unlaid eggs and you should not ask so many questions.” But he smiled nonetheless. Ori would be among the first to know when he announced his courtship of a fellow hero of Erebor.

 


	48. Chapter 48

 

All the members of his company had already left and Thorin had heard no word from the returning messengers. He did not want to set out without their tidings, but he also did not want to miss the date set by Gandalf and risk loosing his help. The company had set out with good time and if he rode hard he could delay for two more days and still catch them, but that did not stop him from getting impatient. This was his quest and it did not seem right that he would be the last one to leave on it. He had just finished looking over his packed necessities and supplies for the fourth time when Dís finally came to him in the stables.

“Brother, you are fidgeting.”

“I am not. I am simply sick of waiting.”

“Yes, I can see that. The messengers may come in the next two days, but you know that they may not. How about this: You can leave now and take their road in the hope of meeting them. If you miss them, they will still come here and I will send someone after you.”

“That is a good plan, sister. I will travel north and intercept them on their way.”

“Will you leave at once then?”

“Yes, I will.” He took a saddle and bridle off the rack and started to saddle his pony, while Dís watched with an unreadable expression.

“Thorin,” she said at last, “you already know this, but I will say it anyway. Take care of my sons, but also take care of yourself. Do not forget our father, please.”

Thorin stopped short and turned to her. “I will not forget, how could I? Dís, I know that this quest will prove most dangerous for me. But I do know it, and he might not have.”

“That may be true, who knows? Just don’t do anything foolish.”

“I will do my very best.”

“And when Balin says you are being foolish, listen to him!”

Thorin laughed. “Oh, I am sure he will do so numerous times. But I have always listened to the sons of Fundin and I will not stop now.”

“I hope so, for all our sakes. Good speed, brother, Mahal’s Hammer shield you and all that. I await your word.”

Thorin could think of nothing more to say and just wrapped his arms around her, leaning his forehead against hers. She rested her weight against him for a long moment and then drew back. Her eyes were wet, but she would not cry. He swung the last pack onto his pony and led it out of the stables and to the street, where many of his people were now assembling to watch him go. “Hail to the King under the Mountain!” They cheered, but it sounded hollow to his ears. He had not earned that title yet and did not even know if he could. Dís stood beside him as he swung up into the saddle and he smiled down at her in farewell. Then he raised his voice for all to hear.

“Farewell, my people. Farewell, beloved sister. When we meet again, it will be in happier days. Farewell.”

Then he spurned his pony on and rode down the main road without looking back. The colony was now behind him with all its troubles, and his sister with her fear. He might not see this place again where he had lived for so long, no matter how his quest went. He thought he might miss the hall and the chambers, but alongside the rode he still remembered the hardened stream of molten iron. He would lead all his people away from this, if he could.

For two days he rode, alone with his thoughts, until at last he heard hooves on the road, coming towards him. Hurrying forward he came upon the messenger and his guards. “Hail Thorin!” They called to him and dismounted. As he came up to them, they bowed.

He got off his pony as well and greeted them. “Well met, messengers! I have already left on my quest and I am glad that I came upon you. I thought I might miss you. Let us camp here, and you can tell me what you have learnt.”

They swiftly set up camp and got a fire started. Thorin sat down beside it as the messenger started his report. “You majesty, I am afraid I bear bad news. Dáin will not come to your aid. He says this quest is yours, and yours alone.”

Thorin groaned and bowed his head. He had almost expected this, though he did not know it until know.

“Though he wishes you well, your cousin says that he can not risk his soldiers against the dragon that laid waste to a much greater force at the sack of Erebor.”

“I understand,” Thorin said. He knew that Dáin had little reason to believe in this venture, but it was still a hard blow to his plans. For all that he had known that his name would inspire more doubt than loyalty by now, the fact still stood that the family of a toymaker was following him, but his own cousin was not.

“But that is not all,” the messenger continued, “we have heard tidings of the Lonely Mountain that say that the ravens are returning. Few believe in the prophecy concerning this and many point out that it is simply the effect of the dragon going unseen and unheard for nearly six decades now. The descendants of the Men of Dale now live by the Long Lake and have done so for some time in peace.”

Well, that was something. Thorin was not sure what, as it resembled no news more than good news, but it was not bad either. He wondered what interest the Men would have in his quest, or if they were already eyeing the mountain for their own ends. But still, what Gandalf had said was apparently true, which was at least a good sign concerning the trustworthiness of the wizard.

“Have you spoken with the descendants of Dale?”

“Yes, but we did not stay there long. The Men of Lake Town, as they call themselves, are friendlier to dwarves than some, but not overmuch. They regard the mountain as something that is entering the realm of myth and the same goes for the dragon. Their lives are so short, only the old remember him now, and the young only half believe them.”

Thorin stared at the fire and did not respond for a while, pondering the news. “And what of the road? How goes travel beyond the Misty Mountains?” He asked at last.

“No harder than we would have thought, your majesty,” one of the guards answered, “we encountered no enemy, but the land remains wild and the roads are in ill repair. Also the greenwood…” he faltered for a moment before catching himself, “he greenwood has grown dark. We did not enter it, but went around. In Lake Town they speak of it with dread and will not go near it, though they still trade with the Elves there, it seems.”

Thorin glared at the fire. So the Elves still lived in the Greenwood and were even trading with the men. He hoped he would not have to deal with them along the way.

“I trust you told no one of the reasons for your enquiries?”

“No, your majesty. We just said that we were bearing missives for your cousin in the Iron Hills and were curious about the state of the land for ourselves, because we had to travel through it.”

“Good! I thank you. When you come back to the colony, you will find my sister as princess regent. She will see to your payment.”

Then he got up from the fire and they all rose hastily with him.

“I will ride on now, to meet my company. You have my thanks again, be shielded on your way home.”

They all bowed to him with a chorus of well wishes and he mounted his pony again, riding south to avoid the Hills of Evendim and the lost Kingdom of Men, and he pondered that at least he would not have to contend with whatever had brought that realm down. The stories told of it were vague enough to be troubling, if slightly unbelievable. Soon he came into the Shire once more and wondered again at how the dark thoughts seemed to leave him as soon as he crossed the border. The sun was already westering as he made his way toward Hobbiton as fast as he could.

The hills around him were rolling and green, dotted with the curious round doors of the Halflings. It seemed strange to him that they would live underground and not carve their homes into rock, but into the deep dirt of this farmland. He wondered if that meant they had more in common with dwarves or less. He knew their lifespans were more like those of Men, but he had to admit that this was about the extent of his knowledge about them, and about the extent of what he wanted to know. Though he did concede that the land had its own kind of simple beauty, he soon found that one hill looked very much like the next and that there were few markers on the road. He was fairly certain he was in Hobbiton, judging by the density of the round doors of various colours, but before he saw a green one, or one with a mark, it decreased again and he cursed quietly to himself.

He was looking for a hill with a tree on it, Gandalf had said, but many of the hills had trees or bushes, and this was not helpful. Turning back he took a different path, passing many more doors, until he thought he had passed out of the settlement again. The sun had long since set now and he was just thinking of knocking on one of the doors to ask for the home of Mister Baggins, when he heard a loud and raucous song emanating from the very hill he was standing on. Rounding it he saw that it did in fact have a tree as well as dwarven ponies bound to the garden fence. There were many small windows that were spilling light out onto the dark path and there also was a round green door with a G rune scratched into the paint. The song stopped and he heard many voices laughing. After tying his pony up next to the others he approached the door and pounded against it. Time to find out what this burglar was like.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... this is it, it's done at last.  
> This took forever, but it was fun and educational for me none the less :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, kudosing and commenting!


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